


Frozen Dragons

by Melysande



Category: DRAG - Fandom, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair/Zevran friendship, DARBB 2013, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melysande/pseuds/Melysande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by  imadra-blue's artwork, this story was written for the 2013 Dragon Age Reverse Big Band (DARBB).  <br/>Masterpost link - copy or type: http://dragonagebb.livejournal.com/41861.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Varric

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.
> 
> A/N: This story uses characters from the I Shall Endure universe. It does not reveal the outcomes of that story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low Town, Kirkwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare ™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.  
> SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

**Chapter 1:  VARRIC**  

* * *

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall === 9:45 Dragon**

Some years ago an elf showed up to torment one of the perennial drunks at the Hanged Man tavern in Low Town.  I had wondered about this particular drunk.  Usually a quiet, morose sort of drunk, occasionally he would loudly claim to be a companion of the Hero of Ferelden.  _Why would a companion of the Hero of Ferelden end up here?_  Then I found out what the drunk claimed as his name.  Alistair.  _Was there a story?  Was he the lost Prince of Fereldan?_

I considered the facts.  The drunk was Fereldan, but that was common in Kirkwall.  The name Alistair was also common.  The real Alistair, the Prince, did disappear after surviving the final battle of the Blight and seeing Queen Anora crowned.  The official story said he had retired from public life to recover from the wounds he suffered in the final battle on Fort Drakon. 

Rumors offered other scenarios.  One said the Fereldan crown had imprisoned him to prevent rebellions in his name.  Other rumors said that he escaped, but whether the escape was from imprisonment or his responsibilities was not always clear.  A more poignant rumor said he had lost his love in the battle and could not face life without her.  Many believed that the Fereldan Crown searched for him. 

After some investigation, I discounted the Low Town Alistair’s wild meanderings as that of a simple drunk.  How could searchers not find him here in the obvious hideaway?  He might have fought during the Blight, but his mumbled claims were ones any Fereldan would know.  While I believed he was Fereldan, I did not believe he was the lost Prince.  At least until the elf showed up.

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall   ===  9:33 Dragon**

The night the elf appeared, Isabela, Fenris and I had not yet begun our game of Wicked Grace.  Hawke and Aveline were no shows.  In those days, Sebastian was not part of our little group.  The drunk, Alistair, sat at his usual table, his back against the wall.  We sat at my table drinking and talking.  Suddenly, Isabela let out a yelp as a blond, tattooed elf materialized at her side.

"Ah, my beautiful pirate, you have become lax.  There was a time when even I could not sneak up on you."

Immediately on his feet, Fenris glared at the elf, but Isabela just laughed. 

"Perhaps you're skills have improved, Zevran.  Sneaking up on the Archdemon and such?  Where is that lovely girl you used to travel with?”  Isabela scanned the room.  “Is she here?  I have fond memories of her at the Pearl."

Zevran's face became immediately serious at that comment.  "She died on Ft. Drakon, Isabela."

Isabela surprised Fenris and I by mirroring the elf’s serious demeanor.  "I'm sorry, Zev, I didn't know." 

Zevran turned to Fenris and me.  "Zevran Arainai.  An old friend of Isabela's."

At this Isabela snorted.  "The old friend who got me my ship and freed me of my husband."

Fenris hand slid to his sword.

"No, Fenris.  Zev and I long ago resolved any differences.  He's a friend and, as I've heard, no longer a Crow.”  She turned to Zevran, “Fenris and Varric Tethras.”

“Ah, the story telling dwarf.  I must remember to say only good things about myself.  Ridiculously awesome would be the best way to describe me, Serah Tethras,” Zevran offered.

I sat quietly and listened, hoping a story would emerge.

"What brings you to Kirkwall, Zev?  Last I heard you stayed in Denerim to serve the Queen and her new husband."  Isabela motioned for the elf to pull up a chair.

"And I still do serve them or, rather, General Loghain.  That's why I am here."  Zevran nodded to the drunk against the wall.  "We've been searching for him for two years.  I've come to try and take him home."

Isabela stared at the drunk, her eyes widening.  "I was right then?  It is him?  The prince?  He left because she died?"

_So, Isabela had recognized him and not told us!_

"More or less.  He fought the final battle and lived, barely.  He almost took the throne, but deferred to Anora after he recovered.  He stayed for the coronation, then took off.  We all thought he just needed some time alone, but then he disappeared.  We only recently tracked him here."

"He's the Alistair who led the fight against the Archdemon?"  I must have sounded skeptical, probably because I was.

The elf, Zevran, did not appreciate my tone.  He glared.  "He led Ferelden to its victory, yes.  He lost everything he cared about on that roof."

"Maybe he should have stayed and become King.  Or stayed with the wardens.  Maybe what he needs is a purpose, not a pint." 

Zev nodded.  "That’s a harsh judgment, but you have a point.  He was young, only twenty years old.  He'd spent his life losing anything that mattered to him.  Losing her was the final straw."

I looked at the drunk.  He looked much older than the twenty-two or three he must be if Zevran had his age right.  His pasty complexion and paunch implied he could hardly make it to his room much less to the roof of some high tower to defeat an Archdemon.  Yet he had coin, so he must work somewhere to earn it.  He still carried a sword.  I looked back at the elf.  

"He believed, rightly, that he left Ferelden and the Ferelden Wardens in good hands.  Queen Anora, King Fergus, General Loghain and the Hero want him to know he still has friends and hope he will come home.  So, here I am."

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall === 9:45 Dragon**

Zevran proceeded to 'rescue' the wandering prince.  I never found out how he enticed him away from the Hanged Man or what happened afterward.  I suspected Isabela knew more than she let on, but had convinced Fenris, if he knew anything, to say nothing.  Zevran did not want The Prince’s whereabouts or condition publicized.  What I did know was that Alistair did not return to Ferelden.  His was a story I would like to write, but the information was not available.

Later, I did hear about a warrior, called Alistair, based in Ansburg.  Reputed to be a taciturn man of great talent, tales said this Alistair worked with a free company of mercenaries.  Rumors named him a Grey Warden.  Again, I had trouble matching the stories told of this Grey Warden sell-sword with the lost Fereldan Prince I remembered.  Little did I know then that one day I would get to know the Grey Warden Sell-Sword Prince very well.  And I would have a story.

 

 

  
 

 


	2. Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royal Palace, Denerim, Ferelden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

Chapter 2:  DENERIM 

 

* * *

**ROYAL PALACE, DENERIM, FERELDEN  ===  9:39 Dragon,  Wintermarch**

Although a Mage-Templar war threatened to erupt across Thedas and a rebellion simmered in Orlais, Ferelden remained peaceful, if vigilant.  General Loghain continued to maintain Fereldan’s small, but competent army.  Queen Anora and King Fergus focused on fostering Ferelden's continued recovery from the Blight.  The General worked at securing her borders and the royal couple ensured Ferelden remained detached from external disputes.

Only Ferelden’s attitude toward magic endangered the Crown’s careful dealings with Ferelden’s neighbors.  With the monarchs’ blessing and the tacit agreement of the Grand Cleric, the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold received many mages fleeing the unrest in northern Thedas and Orlais.  The monarchs, with Loghain’s agreement, continued to bring healing and battle mages into their army.  They encouraged Chantry and mage healers to set up free clinics around Ferelden.  The image of  sisters and mages working together emphasized the good magic could accomplish.  After the horrific disasters in Kirkwall, however, the rest of Thedas, both laity and Chantry,  perceived Ferelden’s lax attitude toward mages as dangerous.    

Wintermarch of the year 9:39 Dragon began with a snowstorm.  First Day festivities had ended a few days before.  Although fearing Ferelden’s tenuous hold on peace could falter, King Fergus and Queen Anora encouraged restrained fest day celebrations to maintain a façade of normality.  Gathering the nobility in Denerim allowed observation of their attitudes and actions by the small, but talented security team Zevran had established.  The state sponsored festivities in Denerim, Higheverport, Amaranthine and elsewhere boosted the people’s morale.  The dwarven firework displays celebrating First Day emphasized to all Ferelden’s improving relations with the kingdom in Orzammar. 

Relishing a moment of quiet after the noise and confusion of the fest day celebrations,  Queen Anora settled into her favorite chair by the hearth in their private quarters.  Their nurse had taken Moira and Gareth for baths and bed.  Fergus and her father would join her shortly.  A quiet evening stretched before them. 

As if on cue, the father in question entered with his two grandchildren in tow.

"What!  You two should be asleep," Anora chuckled.  "Father, you are the worst influence.  The children stay up until all hours listening to your stories and Fergus injures himself sparring with you."

"A little sparring never hurt anyone.  He needs to keep in practice, as do you."  He motioned to his grandchildren and grumbled, "I brought them to kiss their mother goodnight.  Has that become a crime?"

"No of course not.  Come here you two."  She hugged each in turn, then replied to her father, "I go to the archery butts several times a week.  I am in good form."

"She is Grandpa."  Gareth, a blue-eyed blond boy of four defended Anora. 

His six-year-old sister nodded in agreement.  "It's true Grandpa.  She practices with me and can still best me every time."

"Who can best you, Moira?"  Her father, King Fergus, entered the solar.

"Mum."

"Ah, yes well she had an excellent teacher and she keeps in practice."

The gray-eyed little girl looked at her father.  "Who?"

"Your, Grandpa.  He was an archer as a young man.  Quite a good one."

"Twisting her brown hair around her fingers, she crawled into her grandfather's lap. “  During the Rebellion, Grandpa?"

"No, sweetheart, before."

"You never tell us stories from before."

"No.  That was during the Orlesian occupation.  They were not good times.  I learned archery so I could help my father hunt.  We needed the game for food."

"Didn't your huntsmen do that for you?"

"We were farmers, Moira, we had no huntsmen."

"Oh.  That must have hard."

"Not so bad when we had the farm.  I'll tell you the story one day, but not tonight.  It's time you two went to bed."

"Another story, grandpa," Gareth begged.

He received a glare in return.

Frowning in imitation of his grandfather's glower, he stomped off. 

Moira giggled, "He looks just like you and Mum when he does that.”  Still laughing she ran off to her room.  The nurse, who had been waiting outside the door, followed.

“Your glare must be losing its effect when the children either imitate it or giggle,”  Fergus chuckled.

“Not the first time it’s lost its charm, Fergus.  Anora’s been immune for years.”  He glanced at his daughter and spoke once the children were out of earshot.  "I did have something to discuss with the two of you.  There have been reports of a dragon or dragons in the southern Frostbacks.  It's not a populated area, but they present a threat to the Hinterlands and even Redcliffe."

"Is it something the Wardens will investigate, Father?"

"No.  There's no sign that an Archdemon has appeared.  The Warden-Commander agrees with me.  They appear to be just dragons."

"Only a nation which has experienced a Blight could say 'just dragons’, Loghain."  Fergus chuckled.

"True.  The second problem is that they appear to have attracted dragon hunters.  Professional dragon hunters with at least one mage.  The dragons attacked Arl Wulff’s troops in the Frostback foothills.  Then a party of hunters was attacked by the dragon hunters.  Arl Wulff sent a few scouts, thinking they would attract less attention.  He was right.  They were not attacked.  They did meet Avvar scouts, however, who told of a camp on the Col of the Lady of the Skies near an Avvar village.  They’ve seen both dragons and dragon hunters there."

“Together?”  Fergus asked.

“Apparently that wasn’t clear.  One attacking the other more likely.”

"So you want us to mount a royal expedition?"  Anora asked.

"No, I agree with Wulff.  This is a job for a small group.  I already have one in mind to take this on.  I wanted to get your approval.  Afterall, they will be another armed group moving through Ferelden."

“What group, Loghain?  Not from the army I’m guessing?”

“Correct, Fergus.  I asked Zevran to put one together.  More specialized than the army could be.  It will include a Warden.”

Anora sat up straighter.  "Did Zevran find  Alistair? “

"Some time ago, apparently.”  Her quick mind still surprised him at times.

"Father, you know we have no problem if he wants to come home.  Quite the opposite.  We’d all love to see him.  He gave up the throne and left.  We never banished him.  Has the Hero heard from him?”

"Alistair keeps in touch with certain Wardens, according to Zevran.  Not the Warden-Commander.  The Hero, however,  heard of him from his contacts in Ansburg.  He belongs to no warden outpost, but...well one can't stop being a warden, Anora."

"No, of course not.  I do understand that, Father."  She frowned. 

"How did you…or rather Zevran find him?" 

"Zevran has his contacts.  I didn’t ask for details."  

Anora wrinkled her nose.  "Zevran knows where he is and never told us?" 

"He claims prior loyalties where Alistair is concerned.  I think we have to honor that.  He has seen Alistair, said he was fine and reported he takes on special assignments for mercenary companies and the wardens.  He's based himself in Ansburg apparently."

"So you have not asked him to return?"  Fergus asked. 

"No, I only spoke with Zevran.  I mentioned this dragon hunt to him.  I said we did not believe it to be an Archdemon, but having a warden lead the hunt could confirm our assumptions.  Zevran replied that he could put together a party including Alistair, but he knew Alistair would want assurances that his return to Ferelden would not destabilize your reign."

Anora shook her head.  "I understood why he left."  She looked up sharply.  "He hasn't married or settled down with anyone?"

"No.”

Anora stood and walked over to Fergus.  She slipped her arm around his waist.  " I'm glad he didn't end up a drunk somewhere.”  She turned to Loghain.  “We heard that initially, didn't we?"

"He did."  Loghain replied.  "Zevran found him two years after the Blight in Kirkwall.  I don't know the whole story, but Zevran managed to get him dried out.  Then he settled in Ansburg.  He works independently.  That's all I know."

"Zevran's been in contact with him all this time?"

"Apparently."

"Did you know Zevran was Oriana's guard when she came to Highever?”  Fergus added.

"I did not.”  Loghain said thoughtfully.

"It’s why he joined the companions during the Blight.  He vowed revenge on Howe for Oriana's death.  He also taught my sister, Melysande, many of her skills.  They were good friends."

"So his ties to you and Alistair are stronger than I knew."  Loghain replied

"Far stronger.  He is pledged to our family.  You know Zev regularly checks on the security at Highever.  It's one reason he always returns to Ferelden."

"That can only be good," Anora said.  "Perhaps he can convince Alistair to visit with us there after this mission ends.  Voluntarily, of course.  He should know he can come home."  Anora stared into the fire.  "And perhaps you and the army should be on maneuvers in the Hinterlands while they carry out this mission.  Should they need help or support, you would be close by."  She turned to Fergus, "And perhaps you should go with Father.  You traveled in that area during the Blight, did you not?"

Loghain laughed to himself as Anora arranged their lives yet again.  He knew Fergus would gently engage her in discussion if he disagreed, although in this case he did not seem to.

"Not in the Frostbacks, love.  In the Korcari and the Hinterlands, but that may be of help.  If you can live without me for a few months, I might enjoy getting out into the countryside with your father."

Anora smirked, knowing Fergus missed riding out and leading troops.  "Chancellor Teagan and I can handle things here, I'm sure."   

 


	3. Ansburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ansburg, The Free Marches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™.  
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 3:  Ansburg**

* * *

**The Soggy Sock Inn, Ansburg, The Free Marches  ===   9:39 Dragon, Guardian**

Alistair opened the door to his rooms cautiously as was his habit.  A smiling elf greeted him.

"Ah, my handsome warden." 

Alistair rolled his eyes.  "Zevran.  To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"So suspicious.  Can I not simply visit a friend?"

"No, Zev, I think a motive that pure would be impossible for you.  Come in.”  Alistair waved Zevran through the door.  “I hope you can wait.  I've just returned from a rather tiring, although successful, search for an elusive group of darkspawn.  I sorely need a hot bath and a good night's sleep."  He watched a grin spread across the elf's face, and added.  "No, no massage required."

"One day, my friend, you will want a good massage, when I offer."

Alistair stood at the door of his room, towel and clothing bundle in hand.  He gave Zevran a sidelong glance.  “I value your company, elf, just not in my bath or my bed.”

"You will regret that choice one day, my handsome friend.  Go," Zev admonished.  "Go, I'll order dinner and we'll talk when you return."

Shaking his head and smiling,  Alistair walked down the hall to the rear stairway.  The bathhouse, situated behind the inn, had several private bathing cubicles.  One was being filled for him as he entered.  He had paid extra for fresh water.  The servant left, as Alistair put his change of clothes on a bench.

Alistair ran his fingers through the water.  _Hot, but not unbearably so._   He undressed and stepped in, letting his legs acclimate to the heat.  Then he sank down into the hot water, hissing as it hit his buttocks, his groin and then his stomach and back.  He could feel his body temperature rise and the sweat break out on his forehead.  He slid down and dunked his head, wetting his long hair.  Once thoroughly soaked, he sank back against the end and closed his eyes.  He sighed.  Just soaking in silence felt luxurious.  He could feel his muscles relaxing as the heat seeped into his body.  _I’m getting old.  Maybe I should let Zevran give me that massage._   He sat and soaked for some time.

He roused himself as the water turned tepid. _I should shave._   His stubble was turning into a beard.  He turned and adjusted the polished metal mirror leaning against the wall on a ledge.  _Hair needs attention, too._   He still preferred the short style he'd worn during the Blight, but he had no one to keep it trimmed.  Now it often grew long enough to braid or tie back.  _Perhaps I should just let it grow.  After all these years, I shouldn't worry.  No one remembers what Maric or Cailan looked like.  I'm just another sell sword._  

Once he finished shaving, he washed and then rinsed in the now cool water.  More relaxed  he stepped out, dried himself off and put on the loose linen pants and tunic he'd brought with him.  He combed back his hair, but let it fall loosely to dry.  By now, Zevran will have the food set out.  _I hope Zevran’s mission won’t require we leave in the morning.  A few days of leisure would be welcome._

Alistair rented comfortable, if unobtrusive, rooms in the rear annex of an unremarkable inn on the outskirts of Ansburg.  There was a warden post in the city, but living on his own emphasized his independent status and gave him privacy.  After so many years of communal living, he treasured these rooms, which belonged to him alone. 

Alistair climbed the stairs to the third floor.  Zev, as he expected, had their meal laid out on the table under the bookshelves.  A small fire crackled in the hearth.  _I might enjoy some company.  It’s pleasant to have things taken care by someone else once in a while._

Alistair scanned his room.  Somehow, after he became sober, Zevran had managed to find and deliver a crate of his belongings.  The bookshelves he’d built held his library, his fine map of Ferelden hung on the opposite wall and his figurines stood on a shelf below the map.  He saw no reason to hide his roots.  His accent gave him away as soon as he spoke.  He spoke fluent Orlesian and had picked up some Antivan over the years, but never lost the accent that proclaimed him as Fereldan.

Alistair based himself in Ansburg and kept these rooms at the Soggy Sock Inn even though most of the work he did was for a free company from Nevarra.  Despite its Circle of Magi and Grey Warden Post, Ansburg was a backwater.  Most of its trade was agrarian.  It sat just north of the Minanter River, off the main trade route between Nevarra and Antiva.  People did not just pass through Ansburg.  No one visited him here without a reason.

Alistair and Zevran had been friends for eight years.  Zevran had been a companion during the Blight.  He remained in Ferelden after the final battle, serving the new monarchs by quietly working with General Loghain on security for the monarchs and the state.  Given the country's fragility, security threats abounded.  He had served Ferelden well. 

Unlike Zevran, Alistair left Ferelden once the Blight ended.  Barely recovered from the injuries he had suffered in the final battle with the Archdemon, Alistair abandoned Ferelden and his responsibilities.  The Archdemon was dead; the Blight ended.  He thought he should be dead as well.  He couldn't face any more losses.  He blamed himself for too many deaths.  He believed he was not the best candidate to rule.  Anora and Fergus could have children, could live long lives and could rule far better than he.  The Hero would be more suited to becoming Warden-Commander.

Zevran found Alistair two years later in Kirkwall, sodden with drink and unable to hold even a dockworker's job for more than a day or two.  Zev's friend Isabela, in port in Denerim for a few days, had mentioned the drunken Alistair she had seen in a Kirkwall tavern.  She told Zevran he might be the missing prince.  Zev hadn't mentioned it to General Loghain or the King and Queen; he only said he needed to leave for a while on a personal matter.

Once he found Alistair at the Hanged Man, he'd taken him to a remote cabin outside of Ansburg and forced him to sober up.  It hadn't been a pretty year, drying him out and getting him back in training, but Zev had succeeded.  Since then, Alistair had remained in Ansburg, pursuing his life as an independent sell sword for the wardens and the Nevarran merchant house’s mercenary company, Hrothgar’s Wrath.  It was a satisfactory, if solitary, life. 

"Ah, shaved, but not shorn.  Do you plan to keep those lengthy locks, my friend?"

"I do.  At least until I find out what you want, Zev."

"Could it not be just a visit to an old friend?"

"No, it could not.  No one ever just visits me, Zev.  Not even you."

The elf looked suddenly serious.  "They would if you would allow it, Alistair.  There are many who would happily visit you or have you visit them."

"I'd just be a disappointment, Zevran.  No one enjoys visiting a dead man."

Zev's elbow leaned on the table, two fingers pressed against his lower lip.

"No smart response, then?"

"None, my friend.  We've had this conversation too many times.  As long as you stay sober and employed I will thank the Maker and leave you alone."

"But not too alone," Alistair replied spooning some stew onto his plate, then breaking a chunk of bread off the crusty loaf lying on the table.

"I do have a proposal."

Alistair swallowed a mouthful of stew before responding.  "I am shocked.”  His grin let Zevran know he was not as angry as he sounded.  “Out with it then.  I'll listen and eat while you talk.  At least my stew will be hot and yours will cool."

"Dragons have been sighted in the Frostbacks."

Alistair's head jerked up.

"No, not near Haven, although, who knows, this could be a child of the dragon we killed there.  Maybe we didn't find all the drakes and dragonlings.  At any rate, this is farther south, west of the Hinterlands and close to the Wilds.  So far, they have not disturbed much in Ferelden, but there have been reports of dragon hunters, as well.  That concerns their majesties.  The hunters are either Orlesian or Nevarran and they are on Fereldan soil with no notice or permission. 

"How many?"

"Dragons or hunters?"

"Both."

"We think two dragons, at least that’s the number that attacked Arl Wulff’s troops.  Later, a party of hunters from West Hills saw the dragons in the high Frostbacks.  The Fereldan hunters were driven off by the dragon hunters, who apparently felt the Fereldans threatened their kill.  They numbered at least one mage and six mercenaries.  Two Fereldans died in that engagement.  Then, some of Arl Wulff’s scouts spoke with an Avvar clan who reported similar sightings.  Arl Wulff relayed the information to Anora and Fergus.  And here I am, seeking out the only Fereldan dragon hunter I know of."

"What about the Warden-Commander?"

"The wardens decline to get involved."

"So, you need a hunter and a warden to ensure it's just a dragon, not an archdemon.  Lucky me."

"See, you are far smarter than you give yourself credit for."

"Right.  And who else will join us on this small excursion?"

"Three friends.  You know them, perhaps.  Isabela, Fenris and Varric."

"From Kirkwall.  Beautiful.  The last they saw of me I was falling down drunk."  He sipped his ale.  "Two warriors and three rogues.  Not a bad combination.  No mage?  Need lots of healing potions then or a mage.”  He rubbed his neck.  “Dragons, huh?"

"Dragons."

Alistair continued eating.  Zevran joined him.  They finished their meal in silence and moved to sit before the small hearth.  It had rained for the past week.  While it was not cold, it was damp and chill.  The small fire felt good. 

Zev rummaged in his pack and pulled out a bottle of Antivan brandy.  Pouring two glasses, he handed one to Alistair.

"Wow, the good stuff.  You must really want me along."

"I do."

"How do you propose to get there Zev?  I may not be welcome in Ferelden.  Particularly so close to the Orlesian border.  Surely that has occurred to you."

"Alistair, you have never been banished.  Anora and Fergus already agree you should join and lead this mission."

"Lead?  Aren't you leading?"

"You will lead.  You do it much better than I ever could."

"So, they don't care if I return?"

"No.  In fact, they want to see you, if you agree."

"Ah, the catch."

"Alistair, Loghain will have troops in the Hinterlands, for support should we need it.  We will meet with them to plan, then head into the mountains."

"Loghain?"

"Loghain."

"Well, you do want my past to come back and haunt me.  Planning on raising any ghosts.” 

Zevran gave his friend a sidelong glance.  "No ghosts, Alistair.  Only old friends.  Anora would like to see you when this is all over."

"So, if I die during this expedition I can avoid that particular meeting?  Good to know."

Zev sighed.  "Everyone has agreed to this, except you.  Will you do it?"

"Let's see, lead a group of independent individuals who know me as a drunk, return to Ferelden, meet people I've avoided for over eight years, hunt dragons and rid Ferelden of invading dragon hunters.  Did I miss anything."

Zev chuckled, "No, Alistair, you have grasped every nuance."

He received a sidelong look from the warrior, who shook his head and sighed.  "My immediate reaction is, no, but, like a fool, I'm going to say let me sleep on it.  There is something horrifically appealing about it.  Loghain, Fergus and Anora.  I suppose Anora will have the Hero at the meeting too."

“It’s possible.  I know the Hero would like to see you.”

"You might warn them that if I do this, there will be no discussion of the past, unless I bring it up.  I'm just a sell sword called Alistair.  No last name.  No past.  Clear?"

"Crystal, my friend.  Same rules as always."

Alistair stood.  "You can use the other bedroom, as always.”  He grinned.  “I keep it cleaned and organized.  I think the cot is clear of armor.  If not, pile what’s there neatly on the floor.  I'm going to bed."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

When Zev woke, he heard Alistair already up in the common room.  He dressed in trousers and tunic and went out to join him. 

"Breakfast."  Alistair mumbled, through a mouthful of bread and cheese.  "I even ordered that kahve drink you favor."

"Ah, how kind of you my warden.  I hope you slept well.  No darkspawn dreams to trouble you."

"No darkspawn dreams, no."

"Other dreams?"

"No memorable dreams, Zev.  Just thinking.  You know I haven't been near Ferelden in over eight years."

"Yes, we are all well aware of that, my friend.  Although I know you disbelieve it, you have been missed by many friends."

Alistair, stared at him for a long time.  Zevran kept silent. 

"I'll go, but only to the Frostbacks.  If anyone feels the need to see me, they'll have to come to the Hinterlands."

Zev smiled.  "Queen Anora anticipated your response.  She offers a compromise.  You will have to sail to and from Ferelden.  She proposes we all meet in Higheverport once the mission is complete.  She thought you might want to avoid Denerim.  And the route to Honnleath is far shorter from Highever."

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and fell silent.  Finally, he said, "How does she think Higheverport or anywhere in Highever would be better?"  He sighed and sipped his tea.  "So I must see them on arrival?"

"No.  On our return, as I said.  When we arrive, however, the Teyrna will see that we are fully equipped.  Anything we need, including mounts."

"In for a silver, in for a sovereign I suppose.  I must be insane to do this.  Why am I doing this Zev?"

"Because I asked nicely, my friend?"

"Fine.  When do we start?"

"The dragons will not go away; nor will the foreign hunters.  However, it would be best to wait for warmer weather in the south.  The King and General Loghain will march to the Hinterlands at the end of Guardian.  We should not dally, but you can spend a few days recovering from your last adventure."

"And plan for the next."

"Plan?  Ah, yes, maps and so forth.  I did bring some.  Loghain thought you might want them.  And a letter from him summarizing what he knows.  I forgot to mention that, did I?"

"Forgot?  Unlikely.  So, you weren't to give them to me until I agreed?"

"Something like that, my hero."

Alistair's eyes narrowed.  "The Hero is the Warden-Commander, remember?  I'm just the guy who herded everyone along, then disappeared when too many of them died and I lived.  As I recall, I tripped on my way to delivering the final blow and the Hero had to do it."

"You would have lived had you delivered the blow.  Instead, the Hero delivered the blow and lived.  Both of you suffered near mortal wounds. 

“I should have delivered the blow.  I should have saved....  It should have been me.”

So, that wound still festers?"

"That wound will always fester.  Now let's drop the subject and never call me a hero again."

"As you command, my warden."

Alistair scowled, but took the maps and letter, while Zevran sat down to enjoy his meal and kahve.

Alistair looked up from the maps. 

"Are you friends expecting us?  Does Isabela still have a ship?  Can we use it?  Is she still in Kirkwall?"

"Yes, yes named _Another Siren’s Call_ , yes and yes," Zevran replied.  "She left Kirkwall for a while after she lost the first ship, but she and Fenris return periodically.  They remain in touch with Varric." 

"Can you get a message to your friends and have them meet us in Ostwick?  We can find _Another Siren’s Call_ in the harbor I would think, once we arrive."

"Ostwick?"

"I think we should ride to Ostwick from here.  It will provide the shortest, most direct route for us and confuse any observers in Kirkwall."  Alistair noticed Zevran frowning.  "I've no doubt the three of them are watched, Zev.  The templars and Seekers still search for the Champion and the Mage."

Zevran nodded.  "You're probably right.  A wise move."

Alistair continued, " We can disappear into the central Marches and watch for followers should there be any.  The ride to Ostwick skirts the steepest of the Vinmarks through an easy pass.  Besides, I have no desire to visit Kirkwall."

"Excellent plan.  You have not lost your touch, my leader."

"Once in Highever, we'll gather supplies and then ride south.  We should be on our way two days after landing.  Isabela's ship should be safe there while we're gone.  We can see the Teyrna on our return."

“So you will see everyone?”

“I said the Teyrna, but yes, if I must.  Get it over with, then perhaps no one will bother me again.”

Zevran grinned.  “Of course, you wouldn’t want that.”

Alistair frowned.

“Please, continue with your planning.”  Zevran took his kahve and settled in a chair by the hearth.  “I’ll let you have use of the table for your maps and notes.”

"What?  Zev, this is what I do.  I plan and lead missions.  I'm good at it."

"I know, my dear Alistair, I just enjoy watching you,"  Zevran purred.  Alistair felt his cheeks heat up.  Damn elf.  How can he make a simple sentence sound lascivious?  "Happy to oblige.  Maker forbid you should get bored."

"Do I detect a slight flush, my handsome warden."

"Perhaps.  You just need to decide if its embarrassment or anger.”  Alistair growled back.

Zev laughed.  "As you know planning has never been my strong suit.  Now, killing…killing and lovemaking.  Killing and lovemaking and witty retorts.  Those I am better at.  Perhaps we can have a witty retort contest.  Or massage, I am very good-"

“-no.”  Alistair turned back to his maps, shaking his head and trying not to laugh.  "We leave in five days.  I need to have my weapons and armor repaired and sharpened.  I’ll get supplies from my usual sources here in Ansburg.  When you send the courier to your friends in Kirkwall, suggest they get their supplies in Ostwick, not Kirkwall."

"At you order, my leader."  Zevran smiled, then grew serious.  "It will be good to travel with you again.  It's been too long, my friend."

Alistair almost grinned, "It will be Zev, but I must admit, I'm glad our other companions will be strangers.  I don't look for reminders of times past." 

**Ostwick  ===  9:39 Dragon  Guardian**

The two travelers left Ansburg before sunrise heading south for Markham and then Ostwick on the Waking Sea.  From Ostwick, Higheverport should be an easy four or five day sail.  Alistair hoped the courier had reached Kirkwall and that _Another Siren’s Call_ would be in Ostwick when they arrived.  Not wanting further delays, Zev and Alistair rode quickly and hard.  Once in Ostwick, they should be able to leave with Isabela on the next tide. 

Alistair recalled meeting Fenris and Varric during his two years in Kirkwall.  When he first arrived in Kirkwall, he had gone with the Champion on some missions when an extra warrior was needed.  Those years, however, formed a hazy blur.  He winced at the impression he probably made on the two men.  Isabela he remembered Isabela from Denerim during the Blight.  She had invited Alistair to join in a threesome much to the amusement of his other companions.  He had joined in, but found book knowledge, gleaned from the _Art of Passionate Love_ , did not equate to practical knowledge.  Nor did it ensure lack of embarrassment when presented with unconventional sexual practices.  Well, unconventional to a monastery schooled warden at least.  He chuckled.  At least the past years had provided him with more…hands on experience. 

Ostwick's huge double walls did not provide a welcoming face to travelers.  Always wary, after a Qunari invasion many decades before, the Ostwick town guard stood vigilant at Ostwick's North and South Gates.  To Zevran's surprise, he and Alistair passed through the North Gate easily using the credentials Alistair carried from Hrothgar's Wrath.  The two friends quickly sold their horses and headed to the docks.  Alistair, used to plans going awry, was surprised to find _Another Siren’s Call_ safely anchored just off the quay.  A whistle to the ship's watch from Zevran caused the mate to dispatch a lighter to bring them on board.  Even more surprising, their three new companions were on board as well.

Fenris stood off to the side as Alistair and Zevran boarded.  Varric greeted them.

"Daffodil, good to see you again."

'Daffodil?"  Alistair's eyebrows raised, but a smirk threatened to crack the serious set of his lips.

Zevran chuckled.  "The dwarf has a nickname for all his friends."

"...but Daffodil?"

"A bit obvious, perhaps, given his hair, but it has other meanings.”  Varric said.  “Strength, fortitude, brashness - it sometimes blooms in the snow and its blooms last, they don't disappear in a day."

“And,” Zevran added, “the daffodil is irresistible to the bee, just as I am…and we both make such sweet…honey.”

"Right.  Well fortunate I’m not a bee then,” Alistair said without blushing.  He turned to Varric.  “I'm Alistair by the way, but you probably figured that out already."

Varric grinned hefting his crossbow.  “Met you before in the Hanged Man, although you look healthier now.  Varric Tethras and this is Bianca."

"Right.  I'm used to being introduced to mabari, but this is my first acquaintance with a cross-bow."

Varric frowned.

"A beautiful and totally unique cross-bow I might add.  Don't want to rile the cross-bow or its owner."

"Good recovery, Prince."

Alistair silence froze everyone.

"And you may not want to rile the sell-sword," he finally replied.  Alistair turned on his heel and walked over the captain.  "Isabela, good to see you again.  Perhaps you or your mate can tell me where to stow this gear?"

"You remember our meeting, sweet thing?"

"I do and I expect we won't mention it again."

"Fair enough, warden."  She regarded him, her eyes narrowed.  "Is it alright to address you as warden?"

"Acceptable, although I prefer simply Alistair."  He turned to Fenris.  "By process of elimination, you must be Fenris.  I remember you from Kirkwall."  He held out his hand.

Fenris regarded him thoughtfully, then took the offered hand.  "You know your mind, I see."

"Most of the time."

"The dwarf's not all bad."  Isabela said.  "Perhaps you should give him a second chance.  Sometimes he pushes it too much."

"Look, I'm tired.  I'd just like to settle into whatever quarters you have for us and get underway on the next tide.  And to be clear, I know Zevran asked you all to join this...adventure, but I'm the leader.  If any of you have an issue with that, say so now."

"I think, warden, I'm going to like you," Isabela smiled.  "You've grown up quite nicely."

Fenris frowned and Alistair chuckled looking between the two.  "No worries, Fenris, I'm no threat.

"That's when I do worry.”  Fenris looked him over, then almost smiled.  “Isabela can't resist a challenge."

"I can, I assure you.  Now about those quarters."

"Mardek," Isabela yelled to her mate.  "Show the Warden and Zevran to their quarters.”  She spoke again to Alistair, “You have your own bunks.  Not spacious, but private.  Well, as long as you keep the door between them closed.”  She smirked.  “We'll be underway with the tide."

Alistair and Zev followed Mardek.

Isabela turned to Varric.  "What were you thinking?  I told you he would react to being called Prince."

"Wanted to see how much, Rivaini.  He is a prince, after all.  Must admit, I wondered if he had ulterior motives for returning to Ferelden."

"You think he wants to rebel against the king and queen?"  Fenris asked, surprised.  "I can't imagine Zevran supporting that.  He works for them, afterall."

"Friends betray friends every day, Fenris."

"You sound like you don't like him."

"Indifferent, really.  I'll back off...for now.”  Varric looked out over the harbor thoughtfully.  “He’s definitely not the man we knew in Kirkwall.  He might live up to the reputation he’s developed in Ansburg.  I can almost see this man leading Ferelden against the Blight.  Warden works.  I'll just call him that."

"Probably a good idea.  You wouldn't want to try to swim home from the middle of the Waking Sea, kitten."  Isabela grabbed Fenris.  "We have some time before the tide turns.  Let’s get away from the dwarf for a while."

Varric chuckled as she and Fenris headed for Isabela's cabin.

 

 


	4. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanged Man - 9:45 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 4:  VARRIC**  

* * *

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall   ===   9:45 Dragon**

Our voyage to Ferelden, Higheverport to be exact, took five days.  While I was careful not to say it aloud, I still thought of Alistair as Prince.  He acted like a prince, albeit a war-band leading one, not a ruling one.  I called him Warden, just like the Rivaini and Broody did.  Alistair had a point about not riling a sell sword, particularly one as talented as he proved to be.  I soon became convinced the Kirkwall drunk had, indeed, become the Ansburg Warden and had been the Fereldan who defeated the Blight. 

Every morning, early, Prince was on deck going through his fighting forms and meditating.  The bards’ tales said he was templar trained before he joined the wardens.  I guess meditating was the old templar practices coming through.  Once the rest were up, he would spar with one of them.  I didn't expect his skill, having only seen the drunk in Low Town.  He defeated each of them in turn.  Surprised the Void out of Broody.  Had to chuckle at that.  The Prince was a fighting machine; and quick for a warrior.

Rivaini’s crew began taking wagers on who would win by the second day.  Most were sure Broody would defeat him.  I backed Prince and won.  Prince even stayed out of reach of Broody's hands.  Apparently, Daffodil had explained Broody's unusual powers.

On the afternoon of the second day out from Ostwick, Prince called us all together in the Rivaini's cabin to plan our - as he calls it - mission.  I couldn't help but compare this to Hawke's approach.  No plan at all.  I can’t say I paid close attention.  Prince had maps.  He sketched out a route from Higheverport to Honnleath, where we would meet General Loghain.  He presented a list of supplies, which he asked each of us to review. We would get any missing items in Higheverport, he said.

Beyond Honnleath, however, he had - well, he had no plan.  He laughed and said his plan extended to meeting up with General Loghain and the local Arl.  He expected the Fereldans to have new information on the dragons and the dragon hunters.  Once we learned the situation, we would mark a route into the Frostbacks and develop a plan as we traveled.  Oddly, this lack of surety made me more confident in our leader.  I liked a leader who assumed plans would change.  Planning was perhaps a good thing; plans, useless.

Prince did say he wanted to contact any Avvar settlements we found on our route and see what they knew.  He hoped Arl Wulff’s scouts could tell us how to locate the Avvar settlement near the Col where the dragons and dragon hunters had been seen.  He also worried that we had no mage.  Broody, of course, frowned at this and Prince noticed.

_"You don't find mages useful in battle?"_

_"I find mages dangerous to everyone, not just the enemy."_

_"We couldn't have defeated the Archdemon and darkspawn without mages.  If these dragon hunters have a mage, we will need one too.  My powers only go so far."_

_"Powers?"  I asked, hoping he would elaborate on the templar thing.  Daffodil smirked._

_"Templar powers," Prince answered._

_"But, you're not a templar," Broody objected._

_"I am templar trained, but, you're correct, I never took final vows.  They're not necessary to use the skills."_

_"Templars take lyrium for their skills."_

_Prince sighed._   _"No, templars take lyrium to bind them to their Chantry masters.  It's addictive.  It's very difficult to wean a templar off lyrium, not to mention tremendously painful.  It's a way to control the templars.  Maybe it helps some with of their skills, but I perform quite well without it."_

Isabela had looked at Zevran.  We had experience with templars and mages in Kirkwall that probably differed from the Prince’s during the Blight.  The I recalled Cullen’s stories of the Fereldan Circle and how the Wardens saved it.  _Maybe our experiences weren’t so different._   I returned my attention to the discussion.

_"He speaks truly.  He smote many emissaries when we fought the darkspawn."  Daffodil said._

_"Yes and then our mages killed them and healed us.  Just because I can smite mages, doesn't mean we shouldn't take a mage from Loghain's army if we can.  Fenris, can you agree to that?  If not, I will ask you to leave."_

_Broody had looked up, shocked, then surprised me with his reply_.  _"I agree, reluctantly.  I admit you make good points.  And you can subdue this mage if necessary."_

_"I can.  I hope I never have to.  I'm sure Loghain can provide an experience fighting mage who can also heal.  We'll see when we meet with him."_

Broodys' easy capitulation stunned me.  It seemed Prince had won him over.  _Perhaps he trusted him so quickly because it was clear he had no interest in Rivaini?  Or was the Prince just that persuasive?_

The variable winds of springtime extended the voyage to five days.  We entered Higheverport harbor on the evening tide.  Anchored for the night, Prince and Daffodil went into the city, leaving Rivaini, Broody and I on board.  Apparently, Prince had contacts in Higheverport.  He and Daffodil arranged supplies and - I was not happy about this - horses.  Daffodil told me dwarves ride.  I've never known one who did.  Needless to say, Rivaini found this all very amusing.

_“Do they plan to outfit him on a child’s pony?” she giggled.  “The stirrup strap will break as soon as he steps into it.”_

_Broody actually smirked._

_“I’m glad I’m providing your entertainment for the evening.”_

_“Oh, Varric, this is but the prologue.  The main act will begin tomorrow when you try to mount the beast.”  Isabela actually cackled at this._

_Broody had to turn his head to hide a smile!_

_“Very cute, Rivaini.  How well do you ride?”  I kicked myself as soon as the words escaped my mouth._

_Fenris looked up and said, “Quite expertly in my experience.”_

_Isabela was laughing loudly now._

_The sea voyage had affected my mental powers if Broody could retort so quickly.  “I’m going to gather my belongings and go to sleep.”  I stalked away with as much dignity as I could muster leaving both Broody and the Rivaini laughing behind me.  Tomorrow would be awful.  I’ll have to record it all and attribute it to some poor sot in a story._

The next day Zevran returned assuring us all was ready.  The lighter took us ashore.  We stayed in Higheverport, at the House Haris merchant compound for three nights.  The main purpose of the extra days in the port city was to give me riding lessons.  The Prince found a pony and saddle for me, then insisted I ride in the stable yard.  He did do me the favor of banishing the others.

Prince seemed to know his way around a stable, so maybe the rumors of his common upbringing were also true.  Or else he had  learned since sobering up and living in Ansburg.  The warden compound there probably had a stable.  Or perhaps he learned as part of his templar training.  I decided I would have to get him to tell me.  We seem to be get on better in spite of the horse or perhaps because of it.  He is a good instructor.

From Higheverport we headed south to a pass through the Coast Range called the Elstan Notch.  Once through the Notch we turned west on the North road to head south to Honnleath.  Now that was confusing.  I do not understand why Fereldans cannot name their roads.  We passed near West Hill, which was the site of a great defeat for Prince's father and the current General of Army, Loghain Mac Tir during the Rebellion.  I expected to skirt the northern tip of Lake Calenhad and ride down the Imperial Highway, but it soon became clear that our leader had other ideas.  Ideas I very much approved of, since it involved no horses.

We turned south to Lake Calenhad Docks on the northeast tip of the lake.  It was now Drakonis, Guardian having passed while we were at sea, and the lake was clear of ice.  The boats were running to Redcliffe.  After spending the night at a nondescript inn, called The Doleful Duck, we boarded a cog for the sail south.  We left the horses to await our return.  They would not provide any additional speed on the rough roads in the mountains.

The boat trip did save time.  We arrived in Redcliffe after a single night on board.  Once we restocked our supplies, we headed south on foot to meet up with the Fereldan army in Honnleath.  On the way, I finally got a Blight story out of Prince.  Honnleath is the village where the Blight companions discovered their golem, Shale.  Interesting tale, but the Bard companion has already told it in her song.  Too bad.

We had a surprise when we arrived in Honnleath, however.  I knew we would meet the General, Loghain Mac Tir, but it was not he who greeted us.   


	5. Honnleath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honnleath, Ferelden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 5:  HONNLEATH**

* * *

 

**The Fereldan Army Encampment === 9:39 Dragon  Drakonis**

Alistair and his companions walked into the Fereldan army camp outside of Honnleath in mid-afternoon.  Alistair had set a bruising pace from Redcliffe.  Even Zevran complained.

"We didn't move this quickly during the Blight, my tireless warrior."

"We're only marching for two days after a good rest," Alistair responded.  Nevertheless, the group was ready for a rest.  As they entered the camp, a tall, brown haired man in well-used armor approached them.

"Welcome, Alistair."

Their leader stopped, clearly surprised.  "Fergus?  Your Majesty.  I didn't realize-

"-not expecting a royal welcome?"  Fergus chuckled.  "I enjoy getting out in the field on occasion.  Anora thought my liaisons with the Chasind might come in handy, as well.  Unfortunately, we don't have the same close relations with the Avvars."

"Well, this may be your opportunity, Your Majesty.  We'll try to be friendly if we meet any Avvars."

"You managed well with the Dalish and Dwarves, so you can probably manage the Avvars too."

"We had treaties, Your Majesty.  They smoothed our path, along with other...”  Alistair hesitated, "assets."

Varric looked at Zevran.  "Other assets?"

"One of our companions, who knew some Dalish,” he replied with unusual terseness.

Varric waited, expectantly, but no further information was forthcoming to his frustration. 

The King motioned for the adjutant to join them. 

"Captain Moiric, please take the Warden and his companions to their encampment."  He turned back to Alistair.  "We set up a campsite for you.  Saves time and we probably have more comfortable tents than you do." 

The Captain nodded.  "I'll see to the water in the bathing tent, Your Majesty."

"And I'll let our General know you've arrived, when he returns.  He's off scouting at the moment.  Had to make sure his map matches the terrain, as usual.  Come to the command tent when you've settled in, Alistair.  We'll talk."

Alistair nodded, looking a little apprehensive.

"About the situation at hand, only."  Fergus reassured him.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Isabela surveyed the campsite.  It held six tents, set up in a semi-circle around a central fire.  A tripod and pots stood nearby.

"Fenris and I will take the end one on the left," she announced, glancing at Fenris for agreement.  "That leaves you each your own tent, which I suspect you will prefer."  She grinned as she walked toward her chosen tent.  "I'll beat you all to the bath tent."  She had noticed the tent in the center, into which servants carried buckets of steaming water.

"Oh, I don't think you need worry," Zev replied, "unless I'm mistaken that tent has at least three bathing cubicles, maybe four.  Don't be shy Isabela, just join the rest of us."

Isabela scoffed, "I won't be shy, sweet thing, but I suspect our Warden might."

Alistair laughed.  "Isabela, I've seen all the parts anyone here has on offer.  A lot can change in eight years.  I'm just not that interested, gorgeous as those parts may be."

"Really?  Is that a challenge, Warden?"

"No.  Simple fact."  He turned and went to the tent on the right end of the arc.

"He's really not interested, is he?”  Varric asked.  Isabela, Varric and Zevran stood outside Isabela’s tent, talking quietly.

"He's not."  Zevran confirmed.  "Trust me, I would be the first to know if he was.  I've been trying to seduce him for years."

"For yourself or a friend?”  Isabela asked.

"Both, at different times.  Apparently, he occasionally finds someone to be with, but never when I'm around.  Sometimes I think he doesn't...but I speak out of turn.  I think it’s time we settle  in, as the King suggested."

Fenris came out of his tent a length of cloth wrapped around his waist, he asked, "Coming 'bela or am I bathing alone?"

Zevran laughed, as Isabela groaned and went into her tent.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Alistair approached the command tent reluctantly.  It felt good to be clean and shaven, but, now, he could postpone the meeting with Fergus no longer.

"Your Majesty."  He bowed as he entered.

Fergus sat alone at the camp table.  "It's Fergus, Alistair, when we're on our own.  Please.  We’ve known each other too long to stand on ceremony in private."

"Right…Fergus.  So what do you know of these dragons and the hunters?"

"Not a lot.  They seem to be well up into the Frostbacks west of here.  There's a high pass or saddle called Col of the Lady by the Avvars.  Refers to the Lady of the Skies I believe.  An Avvar goddess."  He chuckled.  "Actually recalled that from my school days.  Aldous, our teacher, wouldn't believe it, I'm sure.  At any rate, the col is snow covered year round; a glacier I think it’s called, as the large snowfield never melts.  Arl Wulff’s scouts spoke with Avvar hunters.  The Avvars reported that an Ice Keep stands on its far side, where the trail continues west into the High Frostbacks.  We think the dragon hunters make their base there, although why the dragon or dragons don't just melt it, if it is truly made of ice, is an unanswered question."

"Magic?  Do the hunters have a mage or mages?"

"We think at least one.  You don't have a mage with you?"

"No.  I'm hoping to 'borrow' one, perhaps?  One who can heal as well as fight?"

"Loghain suggested the same.  There is a mage, called Rinae, an elf.  She's quite talented and may suit your requirements.  She fought during the Blight and survived the Circle Tower uprising before that.  She tolerates humans, as a member of the army, but is not overly fond of us.  Fortunately, she probably remembers you, plus you have a dwarf and two elves with you, which may convince her you don’t hold elves in contempt." 

Alistair laughed.  "Yes, and one elf hates mages, but he's agreed to stand down.  And Zev will be Zev, of course.  Should make for interesting company.  I'd like to speak with her before subjecting her to the entire group, if that's possible."

"I'm sure it is, but, your mage hating elf may have problems."

Alistair looked up, perplexed.

"We've found our mages fight most effectively as a team capable of both healing and battle magic.  Rinae leads a team with two other mages.  She's a healer.  The other two focus more on battle magic.  We'd like you to take all three.  Surely, three mages should be of use if you fight a dragon.  Certainly Loghain thinks so."

"When is General Loghain expected?"

"Anytime.  He may want to clean up first.  He's become exceedingly fastidious in his dotage."  Fergus grinned as he said it.

"I heard that Your Majesty."  The General of Fereldan's armies entered the tent in his riding leathers, still smelling of sweat and horse.

Alistair turned, unsmiling, and greeted Loghain civilly.  "General Loghain, good to see you again."

Loghain looked fondly at the no longer young man standing before him.  "And you Alistair.  It's been far too long."

"Or perhaps not long enough, General.  At any rate, you have a problem which I hope we can help solve."

Loghain took the comment as a warning and did not pursue a personal conversation. 

"It looks like Fergus has updated you on what we know.”  Loghain spread his map on the camp table.  “I have the trails that lead to the col marked.  There seem to be several.  We understand, from Wulff’s scouts, that there is an Avvar village just below the col and snowfield.  We believe they will be friendly or at least cooperative."

"We'll approach and find out.  I wouldn't want a band of hostile Avvars at our back.  If we're lucky, they may ally with us.  I suspect they don't like foreign hunters on their lands any more than you do."

"You'll need more food and supplies I think.  Perhaps a couple of pack animals?"

"I won't turn them down.  The terrain is too rough to make horses useful, but surefooted, sturdy Fereldan ponies as pack animals will help.  Weather in the Frostbacks can be unpredictable any time of year.  I'd like to be prepared."

“Good.  We’ll see to it.  Now, I will clean up, Your Majesty,” Loghain said to Fergus.  “Then I suggest you join us for dinner Alistair.  Arl Wulff will be there as well.  You can get more details.”

Alistair hesitated, “As you wish, General Loghain.  I’d like to hear Arl Wulff’s views.”

**Toward the Frostbacks === 9:39 Dragon  Guardian**

The company, now numbering eight with the addition of the three mages, walked briskly along the track in the foothills.  Four elves, a dwarf and three humans, Alistair thought.  He remembered having to adjust his pace to that of his companions during the Blight; he would have to do that again here.  His legs were much longer than those of his companions.  Even Isabela only came to his nose; the human mage, Will, was not much taller.  I'll let Fenris or Zevran set the pace.

Traveling west from Honnleath, Alistair expected it would take a day to reach the steeper foothills leading into the Frostback Mountains.  From there they would make their way toward the supposed Avvar village.  On the map, it appeared that the trail followed a stream into a narrow canyon.  The Col of the Lady, the snowfield and the Ice Keep would lie to the southwest of the canyon, above the Avvar village they believed to be at the canyon’s end. 

To the north, the highest peaks of the Frostbacks continued to Gherlain's pass, where they started to diminish until dipping into the Waking Sea.  The border with Orlais ran along their length, with the eastern slopes Fereldan and the western slopes Orlesian.  Occasional skirmishes occurred only when access to valuable resources were contested.  Otherwise, the slopes and peaks remained peaceful and the Avvar tribes, who also claimed this land, remained undisturbed.

Zevran chatted with Rinae as they walked.  Alistair had spoken with her in the Fereldan camp.  She remembered him from the Blight, which proved to be an advantage.  After fighting in the final battle, she had come to the Hero and Loghain’s attention.  An offer to join the Fereldan army as a free mage followed.  In spite of her distrust of humans, she had accepted and not looked back.

_Good, he'll find out more about her._   His friend had learned some restraint over the years, tempering his flirting if it's object seemed discomfited or annoyed.  Alistair noticed Isabela chuckling as she overheard Zevran’s more subtle comments.

"It's good to see you again, Rinae," Zevran said quietly.  "I'm glad you've joined us.  Let's drop back."  The two elves slowed slightly, letting the other two mages pass them.

"It's good to see you too, Zev."

She glanced toward Alistair.  "He doesn’t seem to remember me, but then I was one of scores of mages.  After the battle, I doubt he remembers any who healed him, save Wynne.  She made sure he noticed her."

"He probably remembers you very well.  He just doesn’t speak of those days with anyone.  I wouldn't bring it up."

"I won't."  They walked silently for a while.

"What are we up against here?  I spoke with Warden Alistair, but he seemed more worried about our companions and how I would accept them.  He warned me about you, you lech!"

Zev laughed.  "Oh ho, what did our Warden say?"

"That your bark is worse than your bite and I should ignore you, unless I chose not to."

"Probably good advice.  He…well, there was a time when we knew each other very well.  No longer.  He keeps entirely to himself now."  He noticed Rinae's raised eyebrow.  "We never knew each other that well.  His eyes were only for her.  And now who's the lech?"

Rinae laughed.  "So, you wondered about Will and Sofia.  We train together to work as a team, as you know.  They're both good.  Sofia is one of the best primal mages I know.  She trained as an arcane warrior, hence the special staff with the blade.  Her secondary specialty is Entropy, which makes her particularly effective should we meet templars.  Will specializes in Primal and Spirit magic and shape shifts.  And there's me.  I'm primarily a healer, using creation and spirit magic, but I shape shift too and I have a few Primal spells."

"Shape shifting?  How did you learn that?"

"Morrigan.  We exchanged knowledge before she left.  I taught her some more advanced and specialized healing spells.  She taught me the basics of shape shifting and left enough information for me to expand and improve with practice.  Will and I are quite good."

"Huh.  So you can scout ahead?"

"We can."

"Does Alistair know?"

"No, he said we'd discuss our specialities and spar as a group once we camped tonight.  He said he preferred we didn’t show our skills to the entire Fereldan army.  He’s right.  Normally we don’t train or practice in front of everyone.  Using spells in battle is accepted, probably because we’re killing the enemy and no one has time to think about them.

Seeing us practice, however, tends to be disturbing; the soldiers watch and realize what we can do and wonder if we’ll turn on them, I think.  Shape shifting or other spells less obviously primal we keep to ourselves.  We only use them when the General or one of his Captains orders it.”

"I see.  Well I am Alistair’s Captain, his second, so, if I ask very nicely, maybe you could scout ahead for a campsite?  One we could use for a few of days.  Stream nearby.  Flat.  Big enough to hold all our tents.  He'll want a few days to get us all comfortable fighting together  We’ll need a sparring area.  Tomorrow, I'd like you and Will to scout our route and look for the Avvars.  We think there's a village ahead.

Rinae grinned.  "Campsite.  Right.  I can do that."  She dropped farther back before she transformed into a hawk and took off.

Alistair saw the hawk as it flew low over his head following the trail for distance than veering off to the left.  He turned to see Zevran grinning and walking alone.  _That's useful.  I didn't think Circle Mages learned to shape shift.  I wonder what other forms she can take.  And if the other two shape shift as well_. 

Rinae returned to Zevran and he led the company to a place where a stream widened into a pool before continuing its way down to the Fereldan lowlands.  The group spent the next few days learning to fight together.  The mages and Varric fought from ranged positions.  The four melee fighters sparred against each other in pairs.  By the end of the third day, Alistair believed they could defeat an enemy attack without suffering friendly fire incidents.  The mages understood his templar skills and knew to stand behind him so he could direct his cleanses and smites. 

When their evening meal finished, the group dispersed to take of personal needs.  Cleaning clothes, bathing, weapons and armor care, each had their own task.  Eventually, Zevran sat down next Alistair by the fire.  They were all experienced fighters, but only Alistair and Zevran had fought dragons.  Alistair handed him a cup of tea. 

“We need to talk them about fighting dragons, Zev.  They’re good.  Now they’re fighting well as a unit, but they’ve never fought a dragon.”

Soon the others joined them around the fire.

“We’ve done well,” Alistair said.  “I think we’ll work well together, but there’s one more thing.”  He paused.  “Dragons.  Big ones.  Breathing fire.”

“What wisdom do you need to pass on?  You’ve fought them before, Warden.”  Varric clearly hoped for more story fodder.

“From the mages viewpoint, I’m not sure.  Only that fire spells do little damage; that ice and lightening do more.  Paralyzing is always good.  Earth magic spells can work, particularly if they keep the dragon on the ground.”

Zevran laughed, “Yes, an immovable dragon is always a good  thing.  Also one that cannot fly.”

“Right, go for the wings first.  Watch the tail, don’t let it kick you and remember the how long the neck is.  Don’t let it eat you.  They are amazingly quick and agile.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Rinae chuckled.  “Like fighting an ogre only worse.”

“Not a bad analogy, but definitely much, much worse.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The next morning found the group winding their way along the side of a hill, following a well-worn track.  Before it reached the summit, the track traversed a col and continued into a shallow valley before beginning to climb again along the side of the next hill.  This pattern repeated itself as they continued west from Honnleath.

At first, tall hardwoods forested the hills to either side, but as they advanced higher into the foothills, pines began to dominate.  The group gained altitude with each range of foothills, until they came to the front range of the Frostbacks themselves.  Several days had passed since that first camp.  Each night, as they marched they had camped with minimal fuss.  A single fire to heat water.  Bedrolls only under clear skies.  Meals consisted of trail food and hot tea.  This last night, as they faced the first of the high peaks, Alistair declared they would set up a full camp and rest on the next day. 

The softer terrain of the foothills, where granite outcroppings broke through the green carpet of forest only occasionally, changed as they toiled up the steeper slopes of the Frostbacks.  The rest day, with hot food and time to spar and clean up, had refreshed the group.  They attacked the steep trail with vigor.  The forests became almost exclusively pine.  Wind shaped trees clung to steep granite faces rising above swiftly flowing streams.  Waterfalls dotted the distant cliffs as the path, which followed the waterways, tracked always upward.  After another day's journey, the group approached a flat, windswept alpine meadow covered with grasses, low wind sculpted trees and clumps of ground hugging flowering plants scattered amidst large rocky outcroppings. 

Rinae had been flying ahead searching for signs of the Avvar village.  Instead of the village, she saw armed Avvars spreading across the meadow to set up an ambush.  The low trees and rocky outcroppings offered plentiful cover.  She returned to her companions just before they crested the ridge, which opened onto the meadow.  Landing behind them, she transformed and hurried to catch Alistair and Zevran.

"There are Avvar ahead.  I did not see the village.  The patrol I did see, already seems to know of our presence.  I think they plan to ambush us when we enter the flat land just over the ridge ahead."

"I don't want to fight them," Alistair cautioned.  "Let's crest the ridge so they can see us, then Zev and I can go forward to let them know we want to parlay."

"Is that wise?”  Isabela asked.  "What if they just cut you down?"

"I don't think they will.  Arl Wulff said his scouts spoke with their hunters.  They know he wants to rid the area of the dragons as much as they do."  He grinned at Isabela.  "I'll be announcing that as we walk forward, while you all spread out and look menacing, but defensive."

"Menacing, but defensive?  Got it.”  Varric agreed.

"Fenris, you're in charge.”  Alistair directed, surprising the elf.  Alistair smiled and explained.  "You're the most level headed.  You won't attack unless of I order it."

Fenris nodded.

"You three," Alistair addressed the mages, "spread out.  If we need you I don't want you bunched together."  He stopped, noticing the annoyance on Rinae’s face.  She would resent Fenris being in charge and his stating the obvious regarding their deployment.  "I know you know that, Rinae, but I need to say it so we all understand the orders.”

She nodded, appeased.

Zevran looked at him.  "Ready, my friend?"

"As ever, Zev."

The two walked forward.  When they had gone about a third of the way across the meadow, Alistair stopped and raised his voice.  "We come in friendship.  We seek the dragons that afflict your village.  May we speak?"

A voice responded on the common tongue.  "From whence come you, stranger?"

"From Honnleath.  From Arl Wulff and King Fergus of Ferelden.  I am Warden Alistair.  A Fereldan and a Grey Warden.  My companions are dwarves, elves and humans.  Three are mages."

"Warden Alistair?  One of the Heroes of the Blight?"

Zev chuckled quietly.  "You fame precedes you, my comely warden," he chortled quietly.

Alistair shut his eyes and swallowed.  "Yes, I come at the request of the King and Queen of Ferelden to ensure the dragons are not tainted and to help free the lands from their attacks."

Just beyond Alistair and Zevran, an Avvar stood.  A rocky outcropping shielded her from their other companions.  "You and your companion may advance, Warden," she invited. 

"Are you sure, Alistair.  Our companions won't be able to assist us once we go around that bend."  Zev spoke in a whisper.

"No, but staying here or retreating won't endear us to them will it?"  He and Zevran moved forward to greet the blue eyed, tawny haired young woman.

"Well met, Warden Alistair.  I am called Angharat.  My brother is called Howel."  A man with similar coloring stood next to her.

"Well met, Angharat.  Howel.  My companion is called Zevran."

"You travel with an unusual company, warden."

"I've often traveled with dwarves, elves and mages, Angharat.  Both during the Blight and since.  I am a warden; we do not discriminate among the races of Thedas."

"So we have heard."  Howel said.  "Our father is the headman of our village.  Please, have your companions join us and we will take you to him.  He will want to discuss these so called dragons with you."

Alistair looked puzzled.  "So called?"

"Please," Angharat said and touched his arm.  "He will explain.  Our shaman will join us.  You and your mages need to hear what she has seen."

Zevran walked back along the path until he could see the others.  He noticed Fenris' shoulders relax as he came into view.  With a wave, he indicated they should come forward.

Once the Fereldan group came together, the sister and brother, led them across the meadow.  Alistair's companions noted the remaining members of the Avvar patrol fell in behind and beside them.  They were not exactly prisoners, but they felt sure straying from the path would not lead to happy consequences.  


	6. Avvar Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avvar Village in the Frostback Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 6:  AVVAR VILLAGE**  

* * *

**Avvar Village, Frostback Mountains === 9:39 Dragon  Cloudreach**

Walking west from the meadow where they met the Avvars, Alistair’s company passed through the narrow, twisting canyon seen on the map.  The canyon opened gradually to reveal the shelters of the Avvar village before broadening into another meadow.  The left canyon wall rose behind the village to the southeast.  The right canyon wall sloped down into the meadow.  The path continued beyond the village, turning left to ascend to what must be the Col of the Lady above them. 

“You speak the Common Tongue.  Is that true of everyone in your clan?”  Alistair asked Howel.

“Most of them speak it to some degree.  We do trade in the border towns and even Honnleath at times.  Our language is not so different from the lowland tongues.”

“I’m glad as that will make our discussions easier.  It makes for fewer misunderstandings.” 

Similar to the Dalish, the Avvar moved with the seasons.  For the Avvars, the availability of grazing for their sheep and goats and of game for their hunters determined the locations of their villages.  They had sites at which they established shelters to which they could return.  Wattle-and-daub long houses lined the path.

The clan had only recently moved from their winter camp in the foothills to this summer site high in the Frostbacks.  Chickens roamed the village as the company entered, undisturbed by the dogs, which rested near the doors of most buildings.  Sheep grazed in the meadow to the west.  Goats wandered freely.  The only disturbing sight was a burnt trail running through the meadow, the village and into the more enclosed area at the canyon’s end.  Several buildings showed traces of fire and smoke.

The group, which had intercepted the lowlanders, were hunters who returned with field dressed game.  On arrival, most of the hunters congregated in the central area to distribute the game.  Angharat and Howel directed the foreigners to a large house on the north side of the village by the stream, which ran out of the canyon.  The company of lowlanders settled on benches in front of the long house and watched as the Avvar villagers greeted their hunters and took their share of the meat.  An older man observed the process, clearly ready to step in should a dispute occur.  Once the hunters’ bounty was shared, the man walked toward the lowlanders with Angharat and Howel at his side. 

Alistair stood as the three Avvars approached.  The rest of his company followed his lead.

“Father, these are the lowlanders we met on the trail,” Angharat said.  “Their leader is Grey Warden Alistair.”

“Warden Alistair, this is my father, Maredudd, our headman.”

“I’m not sure how I should address you, sir.  Is simply Maredudd acceptable?”

The headman smiled.  “It is, Warden Alistair.  We do not stand on ceremony as you lowlanders do.  Everyone knows my position.  I do not need it announced each time someone speaks to me.”

“I admire that.  Please, call me Alistair.  This company does not stand on ceremony either.  As you can see, we are a mixed group with no titles.”

“An interesting one, to be sure, Alistair.  One which can, perhaps, defeat the enemies who now inhabit the Col of the Lady above us.  As you can see, the dragons visited to warn us away from the Lady’s Col.”  He nodded toward the path of burnt grass and dirt.

“They bothered you only once?”

“Twice.  As long as we avoid climbing to the Lady’s Col, they leave us alone.  They seem more interested in flying over the foothills to the east.  A few of our people spoke with Arl Wulff’s scouts.  The dragons were not so kind to his troops.  The dragons attacked as soon as they entered the first range of the Frostbacks.”

“Yes, we met with the Arl in Honnleath.  He said the dragons broke off the attack as soon as his men retreated.  I wonder they did not attack us.”

“Perhaps you don’t look threatening.  You have the appearance of a trading party, not a war band, with your ponies, women and elves.  The dragons did not attack the scouting party the Arl sent.  It was that party who spoke with us.”

Alistair chuckled.  “We didn’t intend the camouflage, but glad it worked.  Our elves and women may surprise the dragons and the hunters.”

“We need to discuss that, Alistair.  Our shaman should join us for that talk, but first you group should get settled.  The house behind you is empty.  Your company can use it while you remain with us.  If you need to set up some tents here in front, please do so.  Your ponies can join our sheep and goats in the meadow.  Why don’t you settle yourselves.  When you are ready come to the large house at the end of the path.”  He pointed to one of the larger houses with a chimney.  “We will have a meal waiting.”

“That is most generous of you, Maredudd.  Can we contribute some food for the evening?  Or perhaps…we still have a small keg of ale.”

“Ale never goes amiss, Alistair.  Yes.  We would happily accept that contribution.”

The company entered the empty house to find a large common room with a smoke hole in the roof.  At either end of the building two rooms had been partitioned off.  Alistair assigned one to Isabela and Fenris, one to Zevran and Varric, one to Rinae and Sofia and the final room to Will. 

“I’ll pitch my tent in front,” Alistair added.  “And not that I don’t trust our hosts, but I think we should continue our watch rotations, although only one person should be necessary.  I am easily awakened, should the need arise.  Also, for now, keep the shutters on the windows closed and latched.”

“Alistair, if you don’t object, I’ll pitch my tent in front as well,” Zevran offered.  “Not that I mind your company, Varric, but I don’t think our leader should be outside alone.”

“I agree, Daffodil.  In fact, Bianca and I will take first watch and let the two of you sleep.”

“I’ll take second watch,” Fenris offered.

“And wake me for third,” Zevran said.

“Wait, that means-

“-you get to sleep through the night, Warden,” Varric confirmed.  “You haven’t had a night without a watch since we left Higheverport.  You’re due.”

“I think we should continue to pair up,” Rinae said.  “Sofia can take first, with Varric; Will can take second with Fenris; and I will take third with Zevran.  If the dragons or hunters appear, you will need a mage.”

“Well, that’s taken care of I think.  Thank you all for your enthusiasm.  I’ll try to sleep.”  Alistair smiled ruefully.  “Not something I do very well, usually.”

“Drink enough, Warden, and you’ll do fine.”

Alistair leveled his gaze at Varric.  “You sound like another dwarf I know. “

“Not surprising.  It is known in Orzammar.”

“Yes, well, I do differentiate between passing out and sleeping.  Fortunately, we’re fresh out of dwarven ale.  The Honnleath Homebrew will have to suffice.” 

Varric chuckled.  “It’ll do Warden, it’ll do.”

Alistair went out to set up his tent.  Zevran joined him.  The others went to stow their gear, finding each room set up with two cots, a rough table stood between the cots and a heavily shuttered window.  All the simple furnishings could remain when the Avvars moved to a site in the foothills for the winter.  The shutters kept most animals and weather out.

Once the company stowed their gear in their rooms, they congregated outside the house.  Alistair led them to the Maredudd’s long house, where Angharat greeted them and invited them into the large building.  This house had a huge hearth with a chimney at one end.  The hall held three tables, much as any lowland noble’s would.  One table in front of the hearth for the headman, his family and honored guests.  Two longer tables extended at right angles from either side of the head table.

As the company entered, Maredudd looked at his son.  “Howel, if you would.”

The young man left and returned with a middle-aged woman. 

“This is our shaman, Wentlyan,”  said Maredudd.  “She will tell you more about the…dragons, but first food.” 

Alistair sat at the head table with Maredudd and Wentlyan.  His company sat to the Maredudd’s right at the long table.

The shaman smiled at Alistair as they sat down to eat.  At first Maredudd, Wentlyan and Alistair discussed his group, their talents and what he had learned of the dragons and dragon hunters.  When he finished, Wentlyan offered what she had learned.

“I cannot tell you the purpose of the dragons or the hunters, but I can tell you they are one and the same.”

“One and the same?”  Alistair asked, puzzled

“The dragons are mages, shapeshifters, if you are familiar with that type of magic.” 

Alistair laughed.

It was not the reaction Wentlyan or Maredudd expected.  The shaman spoke angrily.  “There is such magic I assure you.”

“No, no you mistake my reaction and I apologize.  I am well aware that mages can shape shift.  I traveled with a shape shifter during the Blight.  She was invaluable.  And her mother…well, she could shift into a dragon.  Actually we killed her in that form when she attacked us.”

“You fought a shape shifter who became a dragon?”

“We did.  Zevran was with me.  He can confirm that.”

“What…who were these mages?  We thought your Chantry did not approve of such magic.”

Alistair smiled.  “They don’t.  The mages in question were not Circle mages.  The Chantry would call them apostates.”

“I see.  So you believe my interpretation?”

“I’d like to know more, but I don’t question that shape shifting into a dragon is possible.  I also know it takes a powerful, experienced mage to do so.  I would like our mages to join this discussion, however.  As it happens, two of them shape shift as well.”  He looked sheepish under her glare.  “I’m sorry, but, as you point out it’s not a common talent.  We don’t announce that our mages have that skill.”

Wentlyan raised her eyebrows.  “I over reacted.  I understand your reluctance to divulge that talent, but you surprise me again, Alistair.  That you would allow the use of such unusual magic.”

“Well, as I said, Fereldans learned a lot during the Blight.  Grey Wardens have always used mages.  We will do whatever it takes to end Blight.  Since the Blight, the Fereldan Army understands how to use mages in its army as well.  Rinae, Will and Sofia are part of the Fereldan army, serving as free mages.  Will and Rinae shapeshift in addition to their other talents.”

“Good, that will make my observations easier for them to accept.  Let’s meet with your company after the meal and I’ll tell you what we saw when we went up to the Lady’s Col last month.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Alistair and Wentlyan left Maredudd’s house and walked to their quarters.  Maredudd, Howel and Angharat joined them.  The rest of the company soon followed.  Zevran and Rinae, sitting nearest the head table, had heard portions of the conversation between Alistair and Wentlyan.  Their curiosity was piqued.

A small fire blazed in front of the long house, lending some warmth to the tents pitched there.  Logs and benches had been placed around the fire.  A young man and woman, clearly related, stood as the group approached. 

“I see my apprentices have been busy,” Wentlyan said, approvingly.  “Rhys and Rhyannon, please stay.  You witnessed as much as I did on our trips to the Lady’s Col.” She turned to the company.  “Please, seat yourselves.  Nothing I will tell you is secret.  Unless, you have secrets you do not wish divulged, I think sitting here will be more pleasant than crowding indoors.  Rhys and Rhyannon are twins and my apprentices.”

Alistair stood.  “I think introductions may be in order.  Maredudd, Howel and Angharat, you’ve met our company, but Shaman Wentlyan has not.”  Alistair proceeded to introduce his companions and let the mages know he had revealed their talents to Wentlyan.  He then sat and waited for the Shaman to begin.

“We arrived in your month of Guardian, to prepare the village for the rest of our people.  Certain…rituals must be performed before we can reclaim this site.  Some of those rituals require that we climb to the Col of the Lady of the Skies.  There is a sky burial altar there.  We take the remains of those who have died since we left in the autumn and offer them to the Lady of the Skies.”

She noticed the interest that revelation aroused.  “If you wish to discuss our beliefs or rituals there may be a time for that later, once we have dealt with the dragons.  Please, let me continue.” 

The mages and Varric, in particular, had looked about to ask questions, but acquiesced to the request.  

“We climbed to the Lady’s Col to arrive before sunrise.  As daylight illuminated the snowfield, we were surprised to find a Keep constructed of ice on the west side.  That spot had always held an  ice outcrop with caves, but now it showed evidence of human or dwarven construction.”  She glanced at the elves.  “I don’t mean to imply elves couldn’t build such a thing, but we rarely see elves in the high Frostbacks.” 

Rinae nodded her acceptance of the Shaman’s explanation.

“The…Ice Keep…  I don’t know what else to call it…the Ice Keep’s upper floors seem to be built of ice blocks.  It appears to have a flat roof surrounded by a parapet.  We decided to ignore the Ice Keep, since we saw no signs of habitation.  Our ritual requires we begin as the rising sun touches the altar.  Apparently, those in the Keep did not rise that early.  During the past winter, the clan suffered only a few deaths, so we completed the prescribed tasks quickly. 

“Just as we finished we head a roar and turned to see a dragon on the roof of the Keep.  It took off and flew in our direction.  Fortunately, the altar lies against the cliff face.  We quickly ran into the cave behind the altar.  An overhang protects the cave entrance.  It prevented the dragon from shooting fire directly into the cave’s mouth.  We heard the dragon and felt the heat from the flames for a long time.  Finally, it seemed to tire and left.

“Rhys,” she smiled at the young man and then at the mages, “Rhys can shape shift.  He became a finch, to best escape notice, and flew out of the cave to see if the dragon had indeed left.  It had.  We quickly left the Col and returned to the village.  The dragon had already been here scorching the path you can see between the canyon mouth and the meadow. 

“We decided Rys should try and see what was going on at that Keep.  He climbed to the cave in darkness and hid until the sun rose.  Then he flew to the Keep.  That’s when he learned why there was a dragon in an Ice Keep.  The dragon is a mage, a shape shifter.  In fact, there are two who can shape shift into dragons.  There are others there as well.  At least two other mages and several soldiers.  We do not know their purpose.

“As long as we do not climb to the Lady’s Col, they leave us alone.  They returned once to terrorize the village after the rest of the clan arrived.  They took a sheep and scorched a path through the village.  That was over a month ago.  We remain here below and they do not bother us for now.”

Alistair turned to Rhys.  “What did you see in the tower?:

“There are four mages and five or six soldiers,” as the Shaman said, “and three dwarves.  They seemed to be artisans or builders, not soldiers.  Perhaps they built the Ice Keep?”

“Rinae, if you feel you can penetrate the Ice Keep, I’d like further intelligence.  Perhaps fly there, then change into mice?  I don’t know.  Is that even possible?”

“It is Warden.  Will and I can both do that, but it’s ice, so we will be more visible than mice in a stone Keep.”

“Right.  Any other suggestions?”

“Birds.  If the windows are not shuttered, we can just fly through.  Shape shifting is not a common skill.  If two or three birds fly through, I doubt it will occur to them that they are shape-shifted mages.  If we stay too long, the mages might sense our magic, but if we fly through, they shouldn’t.”  She looked at Will and Rys, “Do you agree?”

“It’s true, if we keep moving we should not be detected.”  Rhys said.  Will nodded his agreement.  “I’d suggest we wait until the dragons leave, however.  They keep to a regular schedule.  They leave early every morning and return by dark.  We’ll have the whole day.”

Alistair frowned.  “Which way do they fly?”

“West or northwest.  Towards the lowlands.”

Alistair and Zevran looked at each other. 

“They could wreak havoc with the Bannorn farmlands; the orchards and grazing lands on Lake Calenhad’s  west shore; the shipping on the lake; and the towns from Honnleath to Rainesfere, including Redcliffe.”  Alistair rubbed his neck.  “They could destroy the food supply for the whole country.

“Orlais?”  Zev asked.

“Or the Chantry.  Or both.  Orlais has its own political problems.  It can’t spare the troops to attack, unless Ferelden were seriously weakened again.  The Chantry may be providing the mages, with or without templar approval.  The Chantry outside Ferelden aren’t happy with Fergus and Anora’s policies toward mages.  Or with the Ferelden Circle’s open door to mages fleeing from the north.  They could offer the mages in the White Spire or elsewhere a chance to get away by serving Orlais’ interests.”

Alistair looked at the mages seated around the fire.

“Rinae and Sofia reluctantly nodded.

Will spoke.  “It is possible mages would jump at the chance to be free of a Circle Tower and templar oversight.  That is, if there are no templars in this Ice Keep.”

Rhys and Rhyannon shook their heads.  “The soldiers are mercenaries, not templars.  We can sense the mage hunters.”  He looked at Alistair as he said this, causing the warden to flush.

“It’s an ingenious plan, Warden, you have to give them that.”  Varric looked from the human to the elf.

Zevran laughed.  “It is Varric.  And a desperate one.  What’s to stop these mages from turning on their masters and devastating the Orlesian farmlands to the west?”

“Calm down, kitten,” Isabela whispered. 

“Calm?”  Fenris hissed.  “Zevran makes a good point.  What is to stop any of these mages from joining the dragons and turning on us?”

“They’re not Anders.  They’re not possessed.  They’re Fereldan.  They may be mages, but they’re all Fereldans.  They won’t betray their homeland or see it devastated again.”

“You can be sure of that, Isabela?  That demons will not possess them?”  He got up and stalked into the long house.  Alistair watched him, then felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll calm him down,” Isabela assured the warden.  “He won’t be happy, but he will follow your lead.  His hatred of mages, it’s complicated, but he can be sensible.  He also has friends who are mages.  The Champion was a friend.”

“The Champion of Kirkwall?”

“You knew him…sort of.”

“He gave me a few jobs, yes, when I first got to Kirkwall and was sober enough.  Fenris was along on several.  And yes there were mages, too.”  He sighed.  “Please, do what you can Isabela.” 

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, while caressing his neck.  “I will do more than that, sweet thing.  I always do.”

Alistair chuckled, turned back to the group.  “Yes, I have templar skills, to answer you’re unasked question, Rhys.  Our mages know this.  I am not a templar.  I’ve not taken vows nor do I support their mission.  I will use my skills against enemies.  Against darkspawn emissaries and against any mage who attacks my company.”

Wentlyan smiled.  “We accept that, Warden.  Thank you for being open and honest with us.”

“So, can we scout tomorrow?  Rinae and Will, are you rested enough or do you need a day?”

“Let us try tomorrow,” Rinae said.  “I don’t know how difficult flying to the top of the Col will be.  I suggest we fly to the altar, then meet in the cave to see if we are strong enough to go farther.”  She looked to Rhys for confirmation. 

“I agree.  Rinae and Will need to learn to fly at the elevation of the Col.  It is different.  I also need to show them how to shape shift into a bird common in these parts.  It’s one they would see flying around the Col everyday called the Frostback finch in the common tongue.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Isabela walked into their room.  Fenris lay on his cot facing the wall.  She unsheathed her blades and removed her throwing knives, leaving then on a table by the cot, within easy reach.  Next, she sat on the other cot to remove her boots, making sure her boot knives went on the table as well.  She curled up on the cot behind Fenris, still not speaking.

Fenris grunted, acknowledging her presence.  “No lectures.”

“No, Fenris, no lectures.  You will give yourself better lectures than I ever could.”

He snorted.  “Shall I speak them aloud then?”

“No.  I’ve probably already heard them all and yet, I’m still here.”

“They’re not so bad, really.  I’ve certainly met worse.”

“Oh yes?  You refer to blood mages and perhaps possessed ones that blow up large buildings?”

“He could have been useful, healing…let’s not talk about him or Merrill.  The mages here are useful to their people.  I cannot deny that.  Nor do they try to control anyone.  It’s the ones in the Ice Keep which worry me.”

“The ones we plan to kill.”

“Yes, I will relax when we succeed.”

“Oh, I think you will relax before that, sweet thing,” Isabela whispered nibbling at his ear. 

“You think so?”

Isabela’s hand slipped under the light woolen tunic Fenris had put on after their arrival.  She ran her fingers along the lyrium tattoos she knew so well.  Fenris shivered at her light touch.  It tickled and hurt and aroused him.  She could arouse so many sensations with a simple touch.  Too much pressure and the lyrium brands ached, but Isabela had learned the exact pressure needed to bring the perfect blend of pleasure and pain.  She moved from his ear to his neck, kissing and licking the tattoos there while she continued to stroke his stomach and chest.

“Isa, I’m still angry.”

“…but not at me.”

“No, but-“

She leaned over him and captured his lips in a kiss stopping his words.  He rolled to his back.  His hands ran down her sides.  Abruptly, he flipped her over.  She yelped in surprise then chuckled. 

“But you plan to take it out on me Fenris?”

He pushed a knee between her legs and reached up to loosen the ties on the short tunic she wore.  He slowly slid his hands up under the tunic to push it over her head.  It took her scarf with it, letting a flow of dark hair tumble around her face.  Leaning down he took a dark, stiffening nipple in mouth, nipping then laving it while his fingers rubbed and squeezed its twin.  Isabela turned her head from side to side, her chest beginning to heave as Fenris kept his knee between her thighs, almost touching her center.  She strained to rub against him, but failed as he held her in place with a hand on her breast and the other on her hip.

“Fenris.  Maker, it’s been too long.”  She pushed his tunic up and he released her to let her push it over his head.  He then ran  his hands down her sides to her smalls.  Tracing along their edge as she arched he moved his knee to her side, straddling her and slipped her smalls down below her knees.  He put his knee between her legs again, pushing down the smalls with his heel.  He sat back for a moment to admire her body.

“Enjoying the view, kitten?

Fenris’ deep chuckle sent shivers down her spine, but she replied, “I’m getting bored.”  She started to sit up.

Fenris pushed her down and bent to trace his fingers up one thigh while kissing his way up the other, carefully avoiding her core.  He reversed the attentions, again skipping over her dark, dampened curls. 

Isabela moaned as he captured her wrists and said, “No, still my turn.  Yours will come later.”

Fenris dotted kisses up her stomach then turned his attention to her right nipple again nipping and sucking, while pinching and twisting the left.  Then, leaving the wet right nipple open to the cool air, he moved his mouth to the left.  The slight breeze blowing across her right nipple from the open shutter worked in concert with his nipping and laving on the left nipple and she arched trying to reach him. 

His right hand drifted down Isabela’s side to her stomach, swirled around her navel and continued traveling.  He teased her running fingers through her now wet curls, gently touching her other lips and slipping his fingers along her wet slit making her jerk her hips upward in response.  He finally slid down to suck her most sensitive spot.  As he sucked, he slipped a long finger inside, thrusting gently at first.  Isabela moaned and arched. 

“Fenris.  Yes.  Please.” 

His other hand caressed her side.  Her hips arched up to reach his hand anything to relieve the need.

“Please, Fenris, please.”

He lifted his head and stopped moving.

“No.  Don’t stop.”  She arched and writhed beneath him, unable to satisfy herself.  “Fenris you will pay for this.”

He chuckled before leaning down to kiss her.  “I hope so.”  He returned his attention to her nipples as he thrust a second finger into her wetness and cupped her, letting her arch into him.  She shuddered arching harder as he added a third finger, thrusting harder..

His mouth and other hand continued to care for  her nipples and massage her breasts.  His fingers continued to thrust.  Isabela arched and shuddered moaning his name.  Finally, he replaced his fingers with his penis thrusting harder.  Panting she arched against him again and again until she released and he followed her.  

He sank down on top of her, rubbing himself against her stomach, as she relaxed, still panting.

He nibbled his way up her neck to her ear.  “Now, Isabela, the payback you promised.”

She grinned.  “You promise to behave with the mages?”

“I promise.”

“Then, sweet thing, payback you shall have.”


	7. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanged Man, Kirkwall - 9:45 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 7:  VARRIC**  

* * *

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall   ===   9:45 Dragon**

I will admit it.  The ease with which the Avvars accepted us surprised me.  The Prince had a charm that put others at ease, even when they sensed his templar powers.  Zevran had his own unique charm, which he added to the mix.  The diversity of our small group did not hurt either.  It was not just that we were mages, elves, dwarves and humans, but that we were powerful, imposing, specialized ones.  Even Hawke’s odd assortment could not rival the Prince’s.  A Grey Warden with templar skills, a lyrium infused elven warrior, shape-shifting mages, a pirate, an assassin lover and a storyteller. 

The Avvar village had a certain rustic charm.  The roughly build wattle-and-daub shelters surrounded a central area.  They houses, I guess you could call them, varied in size, but all were longer than they were wide, so perhaps long houses.  Smoke rose from a central roof hole in most of the buildings.  Several of the larger ones had chimneys at one end.  One mid-sized shelter stood away from the rest with its back to the cliff. 

Above the isolated house, cave openings pocked the cliff face.  Smoked curled up in front of several of the caves.  Ladders hung from the entrances providing access to and from the ground below.  Clearly, a refuge in times of danger as the ladders could be hoisted up denying entrance to any attacker.  Well, any attacker that was not a flying lizard.

The Avvar clan went about their lives in front of the long houses or in the central area, where a large fire burned.  The men and woman pursued their crafts while their children played or helped, depending on their age.  The villagers engaged in weaving, spinning, smithing and woodcrafts.  At the eastern edge of the village, where the canyon opened up, hides stretched across frames, drying.  The Avvars would need to trade for very few items.

The shaman, a handsome women of middle years, told us a fascinating story of shape shifters and ice towers.  I was anxious to hear what tales our little birds would tell on their return.  This whole shape shifting thing would seem quite useful, were it not for the dragons.  Paragons!  Mages shifting into dragons.  If I had not heard the Champions story of Sundermount and the witch, I would think the shaman crazy.

As we waited for the mages to return, I decided I would plan to return one day, should the clan allow it.  I could find many stories here to entrance the people of the more settled lands to the north.  I suspected the shaman alone could fill several books. 

Now, after the upheavals of the past six years, time in the solitude of a mountain retreat appeals.  Ferelden remains intact and mostly stable.  Travel there will be better than elsewhere in Thedas.  Maybe Fenris and Isabela might be persuaded to return as well.  We can recall old times, discover new tales and drink to the Prince wherever he may be.

But I digress.  The story of the Prince, the companions and the Frozen Dragons is not over.


	8. Col of the Lady of the Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Frostbacks there is a Col (saddle between two peaks) with a glacier rising above it. it is a sacred site to the Avvars. It's name is that of one of their gods, the Lady of the Sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 8:  COL OF THE LADY OF THE SKIES**  

* * *

**Avvar Village, Frostback Mountains  ===  9:39 Dragon  Cloudreach**

The mages were up before sunrise to meet in front of the Shaman’s house.  Clear but cool weather, with no wind, greeted them.  They had practiced shifting into the Frostback finch form the night before.  Rinae and Will tried again, wanting to make sure they had the details correct, before they flew up to the Lady’s Col. 

The Frostback finch, a small gray bird, nested at high elevations in grassy areas or near bogs.  The Avvar often saw them flying through the Col.  Seeing these birds should seem normal to the outlanders, as the Avvar had taken to calling the inhabitants of the Ice Keep.  Once Rinae and Will had again shifted successfully, the three mages took off.  As they climbed toward the Col, the Fereldan mages realized flying at this elevation was different.  The air was dryer, there seemed to be less of it and they found it harder to breathe.  Both Rinae and Will felt relieved to arrive at the cave behind the sky burial altar.

Inside the cave, the three mages shifted back to human and elf form. 

“Maker,” Will groaned.  “Do you know what makes flying so much harder?”

“Not exactly, but it’s not just flying.  Walking up here is more tiring too, particularly for lowlanders.  It even takes us a few weeks to acclimate after we spend the winter in the foothills.”

“I think we should practice flying near the cave area today.  It wouldn’t be good if we give out near, or Maker forbid, in the Keep,”  Rinae said.

“I agree,” Rhys said.  “You can return here when you are tired.  There’s water at the back of this cave, fed by a natural spring.  The Shaman came up last night and left us a food basket.”

“Was that safe?”

“To come at night, yes.  She can disappear into the shadows and there was no moon, so even though the dragons did fly last night, she was not detected.  Her powers differ from those of lowland mages – well, those in your Kinloch Hold anyway.  She can call on earth, air and water for powers, not just the Fade.  ”

“Some Dalish keepers have similar powers,” Rinae said.  “I hope I can speak with her once this is over.  Such powers would be useful in battle.  Does she have special healing powers as well?”

“Perhaps special to you.  I’m not sure.” 

“We’ll be sure to thank her, when we return.  I think we’ll need that food soon,” Will laughed.

Rinae gave him a disparaging look.  “Let’s get some water and then shift.  We’ll return as we tire.  No heroics today, agreed?”

Both men nodded.  Rinae was Will’s leader and Wentlyan treated her as an equal, so Rhys deferred to her as well.  Although not as old as Wentlyan, Rinae must be almost thirty, which made her older than he and Rhyannon.  He guessed Sofia was about his age.  Will, barely out of his teens, was the baby of the group.

Once their thirst was slacked, Rhys shifted quickly and flew out of the cave.  Rinae followed.  Will slipped over to the basket first and ate some dried berries and cheese, before he shifted, flew out of the cave and along the edge of the snowfield.  As he neared Rinae, Rhys skimmed by him and pecked his neck.  Will took off after the Avvar mage.  Rinae flew around the two male birds, but did not join in the chase.  As they continued chasing each other, she worried that Will would tire, but refuse to acknowledge it and get too exhausted to make it back to the cave.  Finally, she saw Will slowing and, to her pleased surprise, Rhys took the chase back towards the cave.  The two male birds entered the cave, but Rinae decided to perch on the rocks above the sky altar and observe the Ice Keep.  She found a spot with a puddle of rainwater and drank, then settled in to watch.

Rinae preened her feathers a bit, in case one of the Ice Keep’s inhabitants noticed her.  Her gray coloring should ensure that she blended into the rocks, but if the outlanders were from Orlais, their equipment might include eye scopes that brought distant things closer.  Anora had given Loghain one.  _Probably the only Orlesian thing, other than his armor, that he liked._  She did not want to take the chance that other shape shifting mages might observe her. 

While perched on the rocks, she saw other finches flitting around the keep.  _Good, we do fit in, just as Wentlyan promised._   Just then, one of the male birds flew out of the cave towards the Keep.  _I hope that’s Rhys._   She watched as he flew to the base of the Ice Keep then fluttered and circled his way to the top, before moving on to return along the ridge top.  He disappeared behind the ridge and, finally, reappeared coming around the outcrop near where she perched.  He flew past and entered the cave.

She immediately saw why Rhys had disappeared over the ridgeline.  Two men appeared on the roof of the Keep.  One shifted into a red dragon and flew off towards the east.  That dragon then swung back to circle above the snowfield.  Soon the other shape shifter became a dragon too, a dark mossy green one.  The red and green colors stood out against the clear blue morning sky.  They were beautiful.  The two dragons soon rose above the Ice Keep and flew off to the northeast.  As the Avvars promised, the dragons indeed left early in the day.  She looked back to the Keep.  The other men had left the roof.  She flew into the cave and shifted.

“I think we should maintain a watch while we’re here.  If the Ice Keep inhabitants get bored, they might decide to investigate the altar and find the cave.”

Rhys nodded.  “A good idea.  You stay and rest.  I’ll go perch above the altar as you did.” 

Will handed Rinae some bread, cheese and dried venison.  Usually she preferred fruit for breakfast, but today the cheese and venison tasted quite good.  “Maker, this flying up here is hard work.  You would think we had never shifted into bird form before.”

Will laughed, “I know.  I’m exhausted chasing after Rys.  I like him.  He’s a talented mage and fun.”

“Fun!?  I forget how young you are sometimes.  Take a quick nap.  You flew much more than I did.  We’ll fly again when Rys returns, then go back to the Avvar village after mid-day.  These birds are active in the morning and then again later in the day, Wentlyan said.  We can fly in the valley unobserved.  It doesn't have the same elevation, but it should still help us acclimate.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Daylight arrived later in the valley.  Alistair and Zevran woke first, when the sunlight penetrated their tents.  The rest of the company slept.  The heavy shutters, latched closed, kept their rooms dark. 

“Shall I wake them?”

“Yes, the village is waking up.  I’ll build up the fire and put some water on.”  He noticed Zevran’s uneasy glance.  Chuckling he assured him, “Don’t worry, I won’t try to cook anything, although I can manage porridge with dried fruit.  I’ll wait for you.”

The company filed out and gathered around the fire.  Alistair spoke to them as they ate the porridge Zev had prepared with Sofia’s help.

“Rinae and Will should return soon after mid-day.  Until then, you have the morning to yourselves.  Just be here for dinner and a meeting with our flighty mages later.  We can’t do any further planning until we have their report.”

The company sat with Alistair, as Zevran handed out cups of tea.

“I’d like to capture some of these people in the Ice Keep.  Take them back to Loghain for interrogation,” Alistair said.  He shook his head.  “Maker’s breath, dragons.  This situation has so many bad outcomes I’m losing count.”

Varric chuckled.  “Makes for a good story though, Warden.  One even my readers will find hard to believe.”

Alistair frowned and gave him an annoyed look, while Zevran chuckled and poked him in the side.  “Don’t be so serious, my friend.  They’re not Archdemons.”

“Right.  Not so bad compared to the end of the world.  Just Orlais and the Chantry working together with mages, but no templars…at least that’s the likeliest explanation.”  He glanced at Fenris.  “Or Tevinter.”

Fenris nodded agreement.  “Given Orlais’ obsession with Ferelden, I think they are the most likely sponsors, but you are right, Alistair, it could be Tevinter.  Holding Ferelden would give the Tevinters a bargaining chip with Orlais should they go to war.”

Sofia shivered, “I don’t want to imagine what might happen to the Fereldan Circle if Fereldan falls.”

“Makers Hairy Toes,” Alistair muttered, “Fergus and Anora have made strides on treating mages better.  Shape shifting mages turning into dragons and attacking Ferelden could erase all that.  It will set that policy back years and Loghain will lead the charge if the dragon mages are Orlesian.  Ferelden could tear itself apart again.”

“You assume the Templars and Seekers are not involved?”

“They’re at odds with both the mages and the Divine, Zev.  So yes, I do.  That doesn’t mean they won’t do something in retaliation, catching Ferelden or the Circle in the middle.”

“True, for either, the other way to ‘fix’ the Fereldan Circle is to make sure it’s no longer Fereldan, while tearing the state apart.  The Divine may well be working with the Empress and mages from the White Spire to accomplish this.  Blame the Ferelden Circle for the dragon mages.  Tear Ferelden apart from inside.  Move in to take the Circle and then the state.”

“That’s why I want to capture at least one mage and one mercenary for interrogation.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The mages returned from the Col just after dinner and resumed their normal forms.  After eating their meal, they sat down with the rest of the lowland company and Wentlyan, Rhyannon, Angharat, Howel and Maredudd. 

“We will need another morning’s practice, but I think we could practice, rest in the cave and then explore the Ice Keep in the afternoon tomorrow.”  Rinae spoke confidently.  Will and Rhys nodded in agreement.

 “So we will meet again tomorrow evening for your report.  Then we can plan our attack.”

“Make sure you include us, Alistair,” Maredudd said.  “We will join with your company.  We can block the path, as well as give you more archers and melee fighters.  We have an interest in ridding the Ice Keep of dragons too.”

“Thank you.  I’d hoped you would join with us.”

“Father, perhaps we should have some sparring matches between our warriors and Alistair’s.”

“Not a bad idea, Angharat.  Do you agree, Warden?”

“I do, Maredudd.  Tomorrow?  It will make the wait go by more quickly.”

“Agreed.  We’ll arrange it then.  You, Fenris, Isabela and Zevran against our best.”  He grinned.  “And our best is very good lowlander.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Maredudd limped away from his match with Alistair. 

“Haakon’s Breath, lowlander, I never expected that kind of ferocity.”

“I’ve been trained to fight since I was eight,” Alistair replied.  “and I’m a Grey Warden with templar skills.  Be glad I didn’t try smiting you.”

“Templar skills?”  Maredudd looked wary.  “But you travel with mages.”

“I…grew up in the Chantry.  I trained as a templar for ten years, before I was conscripted into the Wardens.  The templar skills work against darkspawn magic.  I never took vows.  I would have made a poor templar, anyway.  I like mages.  I think they should fight and heal and use their gifts…to serve the Maker as it were.”

Maredudd looked relieved.  “Ah, I was worried what we let into our midst for a moment.  We’ve had run ins with your templars.  They’re not fond of our shamans.”

“Or of the Dalish Keepers.  I offer no danger nor do my people.  You should have had less trouble of late.  Ferelden becomes friendlier to mages every year.”

“True, we’ve seen no mage hunters these past few years.”  The headman smiled.  “I think I will go use the hot springs.  Would you care to come along?  Your people may join us.”  He nodded toward the caves on the cliff face.  “They’re up there.  We’ve arranged some private areas for men and women.”

“Sounds good, Maredudd.  We’ll join you.”

“Just follow the sighs of contentment, lowlander.”

Alistair gathered his company and let them know about the hot springs.  The baths were a welcome relief after days of travel and the afternoon’s sparring.  When they came down to the fire refreshed, the evening meal was ready and the three shape shifters had returned.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

“As Rhys told us, the entire tower is of ice.  The dwarves carved into the base to create the ground floor and the first floor, which is why they are larger.  One large room and a few smaller rooms off of it.  The smaller rooms seem to be sleeping quarters or storage.  The two floors above the original outcrop are dwarven built with ice blocks.  Each upper floor has one room and a stairway to the next floor.  The mages seem to have their common room and sleeping area on the second floor and a workroom on the third.  The final stairway goes to the roof.”

“The stairways are ice?”

“Yes, but covered with a rough cloth and sand, as are the floors.  The cloth seems frozen to  the floor, but did not appear to be slippery.  At least, the mercenaries and mages were not taking any particular care as they walked around and batted us away,” Rhys said, grinning.

“There aren’t too many of them,” Rinae said.  “We saw two other mages, six mercenaries and three dwarves.  They seem ready for a long stay, though.  The mercenaries are well-armed warriors.  There were a few bows, but they appeared to be hunting bows, not that they could not do damage, but I suspect the mercenaries will use their blades.  Most used sword and shield, but there was a huge axe and a couple of two-handed swords.  There was no way to tell what type of magic the mages practice.  Or if they do blood magic.”

“One interesting item, however,” Will added.  “They have birds, so they’re communicating with someone.  Once we defeat them, we could send a bird and Ri or I could follow it.  Either of us could keep up with their birds as a hawk I think.”

Rinae nodded her agreement.

“Let’s talk about defeating them first,” Fenris grumbled.

 “it’s a good idea Will, but Fenris is right, let’s focus on defeating them.  We’ll go the day after tomorrow,” Alistair said.  “We’re well rested and Rinae, Will and Rhys will be too, after a night’s sleep.”

“Why not tomorrow?”  Maredudd asked.

“We need to gather supplies and get them to the cave.  Tonight we take arrows, armor, weapons and some food and healing supplies. Tomorrow night we go up and stay in the cave.  I want to walk up in leathers, not metal.  No shiny.  No noise.  ”  He turned to Maredudd and Wentlyan.  “Will that cave hold eight of us, plus you four, plus your fighters?  Say twenty-five or thirty people?  Or should the fighters come up later in the day?  We can send some sort of signal.  I don’t want anyone out in the open when the dragons fly over to alert them.”

Maredudd looked to Wentlyan who replied.  “It’s a large cave.  It will hold thirty for one night.  There’s a second cavern behind the front one.  I think your plan is wise, Alistair.  Get the supplies, weapons and armor there first.  It would be a shame to lose anyone for lack of healing.”

“Then we have a plan?”  Maredudd looked around him.  “Alistair and his company; Wentlyan, Rys and me; and fifteen of our best warriors.  Who will take responsibility for supplying the cave tonight?”

“Wentlyan and Zevran, if they agree,” Alistair said.  He looked at Rinae.  “You need your rest.  Show Zevran what you want to send up and he will take care of it, Rinae.” 

The mage nodded in agreement. 

“I’ll help,” Angharat offered.  “I know what our fighters might need.  And a third back to carry the supplies won’t go amiss.” 

Zevran grinned, “Nor will another pretty face, my lady.”

Angharat snorted in a very unladylike fashion, “I’m getting used to you elf.  Don’t think the dark will give you any advantage.”

“Ah, my lady, you wound me.  But, I have two lovely ladies with me on this trek.  If one rejects me I’ll simply lay my head on the other’s bosom.”

Angharat looked at Zevran in shock, but Wentlyan laughed.  “You might regret saying that Zevran.  My…responses can be quite electrifying.”

“Ah, I once knew a mage who used that to his advantage when seducing women.  I’ve always wondered how it felt.”

“Trust me, Zevran, you don’t want to find out from me.”

“Ah, well, I can try, yes?”

“Enough, Zev.”

“Yes, my sweet warden.”

Alistair frowned and rubbed his neck. 

“Fine, fine Alistair.  Enough it is.”

Wentlyan, Angharat and Zevran  went off, with Rinae in tow, to gather the supplies they would carry to the cave during the night.  The rest of the company remained around the fire.  Varric scribbled in a small book of blank parchment.  Isabela and Fenris shared a bottle of wine and tried, unsuccessfully, to entice Alistair into a game of Wicked Grace.  Instead, Alistair got up and wandered toward the meadow telling himself he would check on their ponies.

He did check the picket line where the ponies were tethered.  They had food and water.  He walked into the meadow until he came to an outcrop of rock.  Sitting, his back against a smooth place on the rock, he looked up at the heavens.  He hadn’t looked at the sky in while.  Here, with the light from the village fires blocked, he could make out the line where the mountains met the sky.  Along a jagged line stars appeared above and only blackness showed below.  As he stared, his eyes fluttered close.  _Just for a moment.  I’ll go back in a moment._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Zevran, Wentlyan, Will and Angharat left the village with full packs.  They followed the trail southwest through the meadow until it turned back upon itself to start up the cliff towering above them.  Will had announced he would join them and provided good reasons when Rinae objected. 

“I still wish you had cleared this with Alistair, Will.”  Rinae’s voice had conveyed her annoyance as they filled the packs.

“Well, he isn’t around is he?  Having one of us stay up there and keep watch only makes sense.  Rinae is needed for her leadership and healing.  I am not.  I’ll stay in the cave most of the time, but I can fly about and perch on the cliffs to the east.  I blend into the rock.  They won’t notice me.  In fact, it’s better that they see me there all the time and not wonder why birds appear then go away.  Zev agrees and he’s second in command.”

“And I agree,” Wentlyan assured him.  “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be leaving with us.  I’ll speak with Alistair when I get back.” 

The group moved easily and quickly up the cliff face, wanting to unload their supplies in the second cavern out of sight of the cave entrance and return before sunrise.  

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Alistair woke gradually, confused by his seated position on such hard surfaces.  He opened his eyes slowly.  _Right.  I’m in the meadow.  I must have dozed off._ Dark did not begin to describe the night.  No moon, only stars.  No light from fires in the village behind him.  In front of him, he could still make out the jagged line, which marked the mountain peaks meeting the starry sky, but there was an even darker spot in the meadow.  _That dark spot moves?_ As he watched, a sheep bleated, then screamed.  Wind buffeted Alistair, along with a flapping sound.  A dark spot rose into the sky and blotted out a section of stars.  One of the dragons had come hunting for easy prey.

_Maker, did it even know I was here?_

_“_ I would guess not, my friend.”

“Zev!  Did I say that out loud?”

“Whispered.”

“Did you see it?”

“Yes, I saw it land and realized you had not returned.  So here I am, rushing to save you.”

“Good job.  I’m here and safe.”

They both chuckled, realizing that it could have been very different had the dragon sensed or seen him. 

“Perhaps you should come sleep in you tent?  I thought you were there when I came back from the Col, but there were no snores.  Then I remembered your penchant for star gazing.”

“Thanks, Zev.  I wasn’t seen.  Or he…she…it ignored me.  Apparently, dragons don’t have good night vision?  And do shape shifters shift to a different sex?  Aren’t dragons female?  How does that work?”

Zevran chuckled.  “You are asking me about sex, Alistair?”

“No, no I was not.  Just about dragons…gender and gender changes.  I’ll ask the mages in the morning.”  He turned and walked as quickly as the darkness allowed back to the camp.


	9. Ice Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Col of the Lady of the Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™.  
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 9:  ICE KEEP**

* * *

**Col and Snowfield of the Lady of the Skies  ===  9:39 Dragon  Cloudreach**

The Avvars and lowlanders woke as the sun rose over the cliffs.  Alistair’s company met over a morning meal of porridge and tea. 

“Report, Zev.  How did the late night walk turn out?”

“Quite well, my Warden.  We reached the cave and left our supplies in the inner cavern away from casual observation.  Will stayed and the rest of us returned safely.”

“Will?”

“Ah yes, Will decided to join us and stay to observe today.  Shaman Wentlyan agreed with our plan.  You were not here at the time to advise, so we acted on our own.  He sent his apologies.”

Alistair looked down and rubbed his neck, but made no comment.

“After our return, however, I saw one of the dragons visit the meadow, as you know.  I believe a sheep will be found missing.  I suppose that’s how they feed themselves.  Saves them from chasing wild animals or carrying sheep or cattle a great distance.”

“You’re correct, Zevran.  A sheep is gone.”  Howel joined the group around the small fire.

“It should keep the people in the Ice Keep busy today.  Less time to notice Will.  That’s a good thing.  Also good that we will end this tomorrow.  We’re tired of losing our flock to them.”

As Howel spoke, two shadows overtook the village.  The group looked up to see the dragons leaving on their daily flight.

“Well, we have all day.  Spar, pack, ready your arms and armor, whatever you do to prepare yourselves for battle.  We’ll meet again over the evening meal just before sundown.  Have your gear packed and yourselves ready to depart.  No rushing about after dinner.  We’ll leave for the cave as soon as it’s full dark.  I hope last night’s hunt means the Ice Keep’s inhabitants will be feasting and not flying around tonight.”

Howel cleared his throat.  Everyone turned to him.  “My father asked that you join us before sundown for a meal.  We’ll take our dinner together prior to your leaving, if it pleases you.”

“Of, course, Howel.  Thank you.”

“Join us in front of my father’s long house then.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Alistair, his company and the Avvars gathered in front of Maredudd’s long house after their dinner.  Wentlyan would lead the group up the cliff trail.  With Rhys and Rinae in the middle and Zevran in the rear as guides, no stragglers would get lost.  For most of the walk, the group would move in pairs or, at the narrowest points of the trail, in single file. 

The group hoped to travel invisibly.  Hoods covered heads; kerchiefs covered faces.  They all wore dark leather to make their passage as quiet as possible.  Their metal armor had either been carried up the night before or was padded and loaded in their packs.  The more silent their passage the better.

“It is time.”  Wentlyan announced.  “No further speaking unless one of the guides addresses you.  She turned to move along the trail where it ran past Maredudd’s long house into the meadow.  Twelve Avvar soldiers, Rhys and Maredudd moved in behind her, followed by Varric, Rinae, Sofia, Isabela, Fenris, and Alistair.  Three more Avvars and Zevran brought up the rear.  As the night progressed, they made steady progress up the cliff side to the Col.

On arrival, the group entered the cave.  The Avvars went to the inner cavern, as most of their number would stay with Maredudd to block the path down to the meadow and the village.  Howel and Angharat remained in the village with Rhyannon and the rest of the Avvar soldiers, archers and villagers.  The Avvar settlement would not be defenseless if attacked, but all hoped the battle would remain on the Col.

Will greeted them, showing each group where he had put the arms and armor brought up the night before.  He had sorted it into piles so each Avvar or lowlander could find their pieces quickly.  Alistair and Wentlyan pulled him aside.

“Anything we should know?”  Alistair asked.

“Nothing new.  The two dragons left and returned at their usual times.  The rest spent the day inside the Ice Keep.  From the smells, I think they were roasting a sheep.”

“Probably.  A dragon took one last night.”  Alistair spoke to the rest of the group.

“Alright, most of you should get some rest.  It won’t be daylight for some time yet.”

“Alistair, your people should all rest.  My troops can stand watch,” Maredudd offered.

The group settled in to doze for the remaining time until sunrise on the Col of the Lady of the Skies.  The lowlanders slept hoping the day would end the threat to Ferelden and, in truth, the rest of Thedas.  The Avvars, not on watch, slept hoping they would not find themselves laid out in pieces on the sky burial altar at the end of this day. 

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The dragons left the Ice Keep’s roof at the usual time.  Allowing time to be sure the dragons had gone, the lowlanders, Avvars and mages readied to leave the cave.  The mages prepared to shape shift.  Alistair’s company and the four Avvar soldiers who would accompany them put on white hooded capes.  Maredudd and the remaining Avvar soldiers would stay in the cave, ready to defend the path to the village.  The Ice Keep stood near the path that continued onward through the Frostbacks.  Alistair’s company hoped to prevent any escapes in that direction. 

The path connecting the opposite ends of the Col traveled along the edge of the snowfield and passed the base of the Ice Keep.  The white cloaks would help the company blend into the glare of the snowfield; the hoods would shade their faces and eyes from the sun and that same glare.  Once the dragons were gone, the lowlanders and Avvar troops set out.

Will and Rhys flew ahead to scout in the Ice Keep itself.  Wentlyan and Rinae flew along with those on foot.  Once at the Ice Keep, Wentlyan and Rinae, as healers, would remain in bird form to scout ahead of the fighters, while Will, Sofia and Rhys would enter the Ice Keep in human form with the troops.  Varric would remain outside with the Avvar archers to stop any escapes.  The mages would have enough difficulty casting in the confined spaces of the tower, without having to worry about archers. 

Alistair and Maredudd hoped their forces would overwhelm the two mages and six soldiers.  He hoped the dwarves did not fight.  If they did, they might be formidable adversaries, but with the caste system, it was probable that builders did not fight. 

Just before the group rounded the last curve and approached the Ice Keep, Will and Rhys returned and shifted into human form. 

“The dwarves are working on the roof.  They seem to be shoring up a wall.  All three are there.  The mages are one level down in their workroom.  Two soldiers are with the dwarves, perhaps guarding them?  There are four more on the ground level in the guardroom.  They’ll be the first we meet.”

Alistair smiled at Zev.

“Ah, I see we have the same sneaky plan, my handsome Warden.  Rhys and Will enter the guardroom as little birds and perch.  Isabela and I sneak in undetected.  Then we can overwhelm the guards and perhaps capture them.  Yes?”

“Yes, I want captives, but not at the risk of endangering the rest of the mission.  Varric, you, Haakon and Tewdr are ready?”

The Avvar archers nodded.

“You will remain outside with your bows for now, as Maredudd and I planned.  Take down any who escape.”

 “Good.  Now let’s get on with it.  Everyone, move out.”

The group progressed along the path at the snowfield’s edge, then up onto the snowfield to approach the Ice Keep.  As planned, the mages flew into the guardroom.  The distraction provided by two small birds fluttering around made a stealthy entry by Isabela and Zevran even easier.  As they threatened the guards, Will and Rhys shifted and the rest of the armed group entered.  The guards resisted in spite of the overwhelming odds and Alistair’s demand that they yield.  Isabela and Zevran quickly dispatched the two nearest to them with some help from the mages.  Paralyzing spells proved quite effective.  Alistair engaged the third guard, while Fenris took on the fourth.  Neither guard could withstand the attacks of the two warriors.  By the time the two mages and rogues turned to help, the battle was over.  With the guards dead, the group gathered around Alistair. 

“We can try the same with the mages,” Will suggested.  “Rinae and Wentlyan should be waiting for us near their workroom.  They can fly into the workroom with Rhys, while I wait for you on the stairway.  First, however, we’ll make sure no one has gone back to the sleeping quarters on the floors above this one.”

“Is there a stairway?”

“No.  From this level, it’s a ladder set up against the wall.  The stairway starts from the first level and goes to the top.”  Will pointed through the archway on the far side of the guardroom.  “The ladder is through there.”

“We’ll put these poor sots in one of the bedrooms, while you make sure the first level is clear, Will.  Then, let’s all get up that ladder.”

They left two Avvar soldiers on the ground floor.  One would relay their plans to Varric and the Avvar archers and then remain in the guardroom securing the exit.  The Avvars could raise the ladder, they had pushed back onto the floor, when needed.  It’s absence would stop, or at least slow, any escape attempts from above. 

The birds flew on to the second level and again signaled the all clear.  The company quietly joined them.  Alistair signaled the birds to go on to the third level and execute their plan.

Will remained outside the workroom, as the other two healers and Rhys flew in.  The outlander mages tried to wave the finches out the window.  Again, the distraction worked as Isabela and Zevran slipped into the room.  As soon as the rogues were in place, the birds flew out the window and Alistair moved to the doorway.  Having gathered his powers, Alistair cast a holy smite at the outlander mages who immediately collapsed.  Will then cast a freeze spell and the two rogues quickly moved to subdue, gag and bind the mages. 

“That worked well,” Alistair whispered, looking surprised.  The rest of the company joined him in the workroom, closing the door behind them.

“Wentlyan, Rhys and Rinae returned and shifted, to the surprise of the two, now bound, mages.  Wentlyan looked at the man and woman. 

“I am sorry for what I am about to do, but you cannot be here in our lands.  You and your dragons put us at risk.”  With that, she removed the gag and forced the mages to drink a concoction including magebane, thus assuring their magic would not return for some time.

Satisfied that the mages would remain quiet and incapacitated, Alistair left Wentlyan, Rhys and Isabela with them.  The rest of the group moved toward the final level just below the roof.  As they reached the stairs, their boots were engulfed in a stream of water running down the stairway, making the ice steps incredibly slippery, in spite of their fabric and sand covering.

Alistair, Fenris and Zevran looked at each other, as they realized they could not easily climb the slick steps.

Alistair looked at Sofia and Will, “Is there a spell you can cast to get their attention?  One that won’t destroy the steps.  We want the steps there.”

“Not really.  I can’t see the door or opening.  I’d have to go partway up, if that is possible.  And no fire, obviously, or lightening, as I’m not sure what lightening would do.  It might crack the wall.  What I can do is freeze the water coming down so you can climb the steps.  Stay on that cloth.  It will be less slippery.”  Will looked to Sofia for other ideas, but only got a shrug.

“Wait, look at this bucket of sand, Alistair,” Fenris murmured.  “They must put that on the steps to rough up the ice.  Let’s toss it ahead of us as we go up, then you can freeze it.”  Fenris grabbed handfuls of sand and tossed it on the treads.

“Alright, let’s try it,” Alistair agreed.

“Sofia?”  Will asked.

“Yes, do you want me to stay down here and keep the lower steps frozen?”

“Yes.  I’ll go up with the fighters.”  He turned to Alistair.  “I’ll paralyze the guards; then you can see how the dwarves react.”

“We’ll be close behind, Will, throwing sand in your path.  Sorry, it’s not rose petals.”

They carefully climbed the still slippery stairs.  When he reached the door, Will peered carefully around.  The guards were sitting on benches by the doorway, their eyes closed facing the sun.  He cast a paralyze spell, then stood aside for Alistair, Zev and Fenris to get by.

Zev quickly knocked out and tied up the guards.  “More captives to question,” he grinned.

The three dwarves stood hesitantly.  “Who might you be?” one asked.

“We’re here with Avvars from the village below.  They’re not fond of dragons living so near to their holy site.”

“You’re not Avvars,” another dwarf said, eyes narrowing.  “I’ve seen you in Orzammar.  You’re a warden.  You here to make sure those two dragons aren’t Archdemons?”

“In part, but we are working with the Avvars.  Why are you here?”

“Building this stone bedamned tower for these idiots.  We’re builder caste.  We won’t resist.  These mages hired our House to build this thing, thinking building with ice would be no different than building with stone.”

“As we thought,”  Fenris said.  “We should go down and get off this roof.  Get the prisoners out of here and decide what to do with the dwarves.”

“You’re right,” Alistair agreed, “you go down and stand with Sofia.” 

Fenris sheathed his sword and left.

Alistair spoke to the guards.  “You lot, you might survive this if you cooperate.  Your friends on the ground level weren’t so fortunate.  They resisted.  Now go down the stairs, slowly.  We’ll be behind you.  There are more of us, soldiers and mages, below.”

The two guards went down the stairs followed by Will.  “All clear,” Fenris called out.

“Now you three.  I’ll advise you, we have powerful mages.  Their magic will affect you, as will our blades.”

“No problem, warden, we have no fight with you or the Avvars.  Just get us out of here in one piece.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The captives, two mercenaries and two mages, sat around the table on the ground floor of the keep.  The dwarves had gone to their room, under Fenris and Zevran’s watchful eyes, to gather their equipment and belongings.  Once they were ready, Zevran would lead a team to convey the group to the cave.  He would leave them for Maredudd and his Avvars to guard.  Alistair and the remaining company would wait in the Ice Keep.  They would use the time to search it thoroughly and hope the dragons did not return early and surprise them.

As it was just past mid-day, Alistair believed Zevran’s group could get the prisoners and dwarves secured in the inner cavern and return to the Ice Keep before sunset.  They would leave Will to guard the prisoners in the cave with Maredudd and six of his men.  If a message needed to be sent, Will could fly between the cavern and Ice Keep as a courier. 

The walk to the cave with the prisoners and dwarves went smoothly.  Wentlyan left a supply of the magebane-laced drink with Maredudd, instructing him to force the mages to drink twice before sunset.  Wentlyan and Rhys flew, while Zevran and Isabela led Maredudd’s other Avvars back to the Keep.  Alistair wanted a strong force to oppose the dragon mages.  Killing or capturing them as mages was preferable to killing them as dragons, but he would take no chances either way.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

On Isabela and Zevran’s return to the Ice Keep, Alistair put five Avvar troops in the ground floor guardroom.  He took four Avvars, the four mages, Fenris, Varric and Zevran up into the Tower.  The four Avvars he left on the second level as backup in case their efforts on the third level failed.

Unlike the dragons' morning departures, where the other two mages attended them, no one met the dragons when they returned in the evening.  Alistair and his company hoped the dragons would land, shift back to human form on the roof and then enter the Keep.  They expected the dragon mages would land and shift one at a time.  As the dragon mage came down the stairs to the third level, Alistair would cast a holy smite avoiding his own mages, who would stay behind him.  Once the smite took effect, Alistair’s mages would paralyze the dragon mage and the fighters would attack.

The weak point in the plan was the escape route the stairs from the roof afforded.  If one of the dragon mages made it back to the roof, they could shape shift back into a dragon and escape or make for a difficult battle.  That the dragon would swoop down and attack the Avvar village was their greatest fear.  Unfortunately, the roof had no place to conceal any of them.

“But you have a dwarf,” Varric said, coming down the stairs from the roof.  “I bet those mages can’t tell one dwarf from another.  I could stay up there.  Say I’m cleaning up.  I can hide Bianca with the dwarves' tools.  They left some up there when you brought them down.”

“Uh.  Good idea, but you aren’t dressed like a builder.”

“I can fix that, Warden,” Varric replied.  I’m sure there’s clothing here I can use.”

“He’s right, Alistair, it’s the best option we have,”  Zevran said.  “If we rush up after the dragon mage, Varric could give us just the time we need to get to him before he shape shifts again.”

Alistair grimaced.  “Do it, but put the clothes over your leathers if you can.  And, Varric...thank you.  We’ll get there quickly, I promise.”

“I know you will, Warden.  Besides, I’d like to see the dragon land up close.”  He grinned.  “More realistic descriptions.”  He went off to find work clothes to disguise himself as a builder.

“Think he’ll button up?”  Isabela asked Fenris. 

He chuckled.  “Maybe that would be more alluring.  Afterall, we’re used to the chest hair.”

“Ah, you are right my friend.  What is not seen, but suspected, is often the most sexy.  Take our sexy warden for example.  Did you know Alistair had a tattoo?”  Zevran asked.

Isabela raised her eyebrows.

Alistair gave him a sidelong glare.  “From Zevran.  In one of my weaker moments.  To celebrate a month of sobriety I think?”

“You do remember.  Yes, a whole month.”

“What?  And where?”  Isabela said.

“Now that would be telling,” Zevran purred.  “And only Alistair should do that.”

Alistair hesitated.  _Might as well just tell them and avoid the inevitable teasing and questions._   “It’s a wreath – laurel branches - on my chest.  Left side.  Not a secret, just not something I flaunt.” 

“Oh, how…uninteresting,” Isabela said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, quite.  Now let’s disperse to our places and wait for these damn dragons.”  He looked around.  “Has everyone eaten?  Any questions?  Good.  Let’s go to our places and wait.”

Varric, on the roof, gave the company the additional benefit of a warning that the dragons approached.  He whistled, not sure how well dragons could hear if he yelled.

“Places everyone.”  Alistair ordered.

One dragon landed, while the other circled the snowfield to give the first dragon mage time to shift and vacate the roof.  The first dragon shifted back to her mage form. 

“Dwarf?  What are you doing here?” 

“Sorry, I left some tools up here – parts of our drills.  I need to sharpen them tonight.  Is there a problem?”

“No, just stay out of the way.  Laurens will land as soon as I go in.”  She glanced through the doorway.  “Are the stairs repaired?”

“Improved, but still slippery.”  Varric shrugged.  He’d noticed the drills and a few holes through the ice walls.  “Ice is water.  We need to drill more drainage holes tomorrow to let the ice melt out.  Maybe add some along the stairway.”

“See that you do.  The ice melt causes too many problems”  The mage turned to go down the stairs, which were still slippery.

As she came down the stairs, slowly and carefully, holding the rope handrail the dwarves had installed on the wall, she did not notice Alistair ready to release a smite.  The holy smite hit her hard and she fell, unconscious.  Sofia immediately cast a paralyzing spell.  Zevran and Isabela dragged her into the workroom.

“It seems we have another prisoner, Wentlyan.”

The mage looked around her in confusion as she regained consciousness from the smite.  Wentlyan quickly forced the magebane drink upon her.

“Bitch,” she hissed, then looking startled.  “You…you’re a mage!”

“A Shaman of the Avvar people.  I protect them at all costs.”

“We have no fight with you.  I’ll convince Laurens to stop stealing your sheep.”

 “You threaten our village, mage,” Wentlyan replied.  “I cannot allow that.  Magebane is a last resort, but you are too dangerous to be allowed to use your magic.”

 “We can make a deal,” the woman pleaded.  “The Fereldan’s are not your friends”

“What deal can you offer mage?  What are you but some apostates trying magic forbidden by your Chantry.”

“No, we are not apostates.  I am a Senior Enchanter at the White Spire in Val Royeaux, as is my partner.  We’re part of a small, elite group.  We know forbidden magic.  Shape shifting.  The Empress and the Divine sent us here to undermine Fereldan.  Ruin their crops.  Destroy their trade.  More of us will follow.  The Chantry protects us.”

“More shape shifters?  Blood mages?”

“No, no blood mages.  That is beyond what the Chantry will accept.  Only shape shifters.  Two or three others.  Very few learn this forbidden magic.  Even fewer can manage dragons.  We have a common enemy in Ferelden.  We can destroy them and leave the land for you.”

“So you are Orlesian and come here as a mage under Chantry protection?  That makes you powerful, yes?”

“You are not Fereldan.  Antivan?”

“Zevran Arainai at your service, Demoiselle…?”

“Renata.”

“Ah, a Chantry orphan?”

“How do you know that?”

“Named after the Divine Renata yes?  The scourge of the elves.”

Renata looked nervous at that remark.  Her captors were two elves and an Avvar.  “Please, I can work with you.  If you’re Dalish and allied with the Avvars, we will help you.  Surely defeat of Ferelden will benefit you all.”

Wentlyan appeared to consider the mage’s words as she looked out into the hall and then turned to Renata.

“Help us?  As the Orlesians did before?  They did not leave us alone, as the Fereldan’s do now.  They came after us and our flocks, just as your Laurens does.  They sent their templars and forced their Chantry on us.  The Fereldans do not.  No, we can exist with the Fereldans.”

While they spoke the other dragon had landed on the roof and also questioned Varric.  He seemed to accept Varric’s explanation, but he descended the stairs more warily.  Part way down he stopped.  Alistair had gathered himself to smite and stepped into the stairway opening.  Before he could cast the smite, the mage cast a powerful Crushing Prison. 

Sofia responded with a small fireball to the mages feet, melting the stair tread and causing the mage to fall.  Varric had followed the mage to the stairway and loosed a bolt as soon as he saw the mage begin to cast, hoping to disrupt the spell.  It caught the mage in the right shoulder as he fell.  The mage started sliding down the stairs. 

Zevran rushed out of the workroom only to see Alistair held in the spell and the mage sliding down the stairway.  Even on his back, bouncing from step to step he looked ready to cast again.  Zevran threw a dagger, which struck him in the throat, disrupting his cast, but not hitting the critical blood vessels.

The mage ended in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.  Suddenly, Alistair was free of the spell and falling too.  Wentlyan had followed Zevran into the hall and dispelled the dragon mage’s spell.  She quickly cast a paralyze spell, followed by a frozen web spell that bound the mage. 

Wentlyan quickly turned and cast a healing spell over Alistair. 

Sofia had followed Wentlyan out of the workroom.  Before any of the fighters could reach the mage, she cast another freeze spell.  Zevran and Fenris quickly finished him off.

Zevran turned to Alistair, who looked pale and was not moving. 

“Wentlyan, is he-

“-alive.  Don’t move him Zevran.  I must mend his broken ribs before one punctures a lung.  He cast a powerful spell.  It’s good you finished him.  So powerful a mage would be a danger in spite of magebane.”

Rinae came over to assist Wentlyan with her healing. 

“What can I do?”

“Nothing just yet.  His ribs are almost healed.  His lung was bruised, but not punctured and that is healed as well.  Just stay with Renata and make sure she doesn’t get up to any mischief.  He was the more powerful of the two, but if she can shape shift into a dragon, we should be wary.”

“We’ll keep her thirsty,” Rinae said with a smirk.  “She’ll get no water not laced with magebane.”

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

 The group finally got Alistair down to the first level.  Getting him down the ladder would have to wait until he regained consciousness and could walk.  Wentlyan and Rinae stayed with him.  The others took the mage, Renata, to the ground floor.

“Since our Warden will be fine, we have no casualties.  We didn’t expect this to be so easy,” Zevran said.  He looked around at the raised eyebrows.  “I am happy that it was so easy, just surprised, but we have a surfeit of prisoners, yes?”

They thought of the two mercenaries and two mages in Maredudd’s custody across the snowfield in the cave. 

Sofia spoke.  “The divine Renata has already admitted they are Circle Mages from the White Spire sent here to do the Empire and the Chantry’s bidding.  Both Orlais and the Chantry are too enmeshed in their own struggles to send an army to Ferelden, so they send shape shifters to become dragons and ravage our lands.”

The Avvar soldiers, who did not speak the Common Tongue as well as their leaders, seemed to understand Sophia’s words well enough. 

“We would be next, if Ferelden fell.  Just like last time,” the older one said.

“You would,” Fenris agreed.  “Slavery of any kind is not to be accepted.  Zev, should we send a message to Maredudd?”

Zevran looked for Rhys.  “Will you take a message to your headman?  Tell him what has transpired here.  We will bring this one over in the morning I think.  I suggest Maredudd wait there for us to join him, but he should send a messenger to the village to let them know we succeeded.  I hope by morning Alistair will be well enough to travel, at least to the cave.”

“We’ll also bring the birds.  We can still send one and have you or Will follow it I think.  Or take them to the King and General; they may be of use tho them.

Rhys shifted, surprising the Orlesian mage, and flew to his father.

Wentlyan and Rinae worked on Alistair for some time.  The Crushing Prison had broken several other bones, but once his ribs were healed he was out of danger.  The mages took turns healing him, while conserving their mana and their lyrium potions.  Wentlyan allowed him to regain consciousness only long enough to let him know all was well.  The dragon mage, Laurens, was dead.  The other, Renata, a prisoner.  A message had been sent to Maredudd and Rhys had returned with his response.  Maredudd, his troops, Will and the prisoners would wait for the company to return from the Ice Keep in the morning. 

Once Alistair had the news and had spoken with a concerned Zevran, Wentlyan cast a sleep spell.  The spell would allow him to sleep, without pain, and heal more quickly.  Fortunately, the other broken bones were in his left arm and not his legs.  Walking to the cave should be possible in the morning.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Maredudd, his Avvars, the prisoners and the other lowlanders had gone to the village.  Varric had gone with Maredudd to record his experiences while they were fresh.  The other four companions had stayed an extra night in the cave to allow Alistair to heal completely.  The Avvar village and Ferelden were safe, for now.  They needed to return to Honnleath and let the King and Loghain know the threat from Orlais, working with factions in the Chantry and using mages, was real.  The Fereldens would need to monitor the Ice Keep and intercept any further mages or troops.

Alistair and Maredudd agreed that Angharat, Howel and a score of Avvar troops would join them on their trip to Honnleath.  In part, the Avvars would help guard the prisoners.  Angharat and Howel would also establish contact with the Fereldan King and General.  Alistair hoped an alliance could be born of this effort.  Fergus had forged alliances with the Chasind during the Blight.  If anyone could forge one with the Avvars it was the King. 

Before leaving for the valley, Alistair, Zevran, Isabela and Fenris climbed to the top of the ridge above the trail that traversed the Col of the Lady of the Skies.  The four companions looked out over the snowfield to the Ice Keep in the distance.  Their white cloaks discarded, they stood in the wind, colorful cloaks billowing around them as they gazed across the brilliant white expanse.  All was quiet here now.  No dragons flew now, only finches.  The dwarves had agreed to return, under the Avvar’s supervision, to undo their work.  They had plans to weaken the Keep, so any future Orlesian adventurers would find themselves in a collapsing tower. 

Alistair hoped King Fergus and Queen Anora would ask King Behlen to forbid his people to cooperate with the Orlesians in the future.  Perhaps they could use the lyrium trade as leverage against Orlais and the Chantry.  Lengthy negotiations would ensue, but Alistair thought they might succeed.

Fenris slipped an arm around Isabela.  “I think I am happy not to have fought a dragon.”

Alistair and Zevran joined them. 

“It’s not an experience I recommend.  I’ve never fought a dragon and not lost companions and friends.”  Alistair said.

“A most successful mission then.  All foes dead or captured.  Fereldan warned of the Orlesian-Chantry-mage alliance.  No allies lost or tainted.  One of your most successful missions, yes, my handsome Warden?”  Zev put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder.

Alistair nodded and smiled, somewhat sadly.  “Indeed, Zev.  No companion deaths.  No one tainted.  Most successful indeed.”

 

 


	10. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanged Man, Kirkwall - 9:45 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Awakenings, Dragon Age II, The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Asunder and all Dark Horse Comics are property of Bioware™ and Electronic Arts ™. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: This story may contain spoilers for Dragon Age games, books and comics.

**Chapter 10:  VARRIC**

* * *

**The Hanged Man, Kirkwall  ===  9:45 Dragon**

The Prince did go back to Higheverport.  The General and the King traveled with us, as we returned by boat from Redcliffe to Lake Calenhad Docks.  The cog carried our company, the General, the King, their horses and the King’s guard.  Once in Lake Calenhad Docks, we reclaimed our mounts from the stable, much to my dismay.

Two units of the army stayed behind in Honnleath, two went to Rainesfere and two went on to Waking Sea.  The General was taking no chances with the Orlesians.  The rest of the army returned to Denerim.  Over the years, alliances were forged with the Avvars and strengthened with the Chasind, the Dwarves of Orzammar and the Dalish.  The Fereldan Circle continued to accept mages from the North.  Mages continued to serve in the army and the clinics around the country.

We all returned to Kirkwall with Isabela, but not before we had dinner at Castle Cousland with the King, Queen, General, Hero and Teyrna.  The Prince conducted himself well, but was clearly ready to be on his way.  Whatever offers might have been made to convince him to stay must have been declined.  He left with us on _Another Siren’s Call._

Interestingly, he and Daffodil shared a cabin on the return trip. 

Broody and Rivaini passed through Kirkwall frequently as the years went by and Thedas suffered.  Daffodil showed up on occasion.  I never saw Prince again.  I heard of him or at least someone rumored to be him, although Daffodil never spoke of him again.  I know he was in Ansburg for another year or so, but after that it’s all rumor and conjecture.  Whether he involved himself in the wars, I don’t know.  And he is a warden; don’t they all have some apocalyptic ending in the deep roads?  Perhaps he ended there.

I did get a book out of it though.  Another best seller.  _Frozen Dragons._   You should read it.


End file.
